


Once A Hero

by aleksrothis



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Inquisitor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 91,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/pseuds/aleksrothis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years after the killing the Archdemon, Alistair Theirin is carrying messages from Redcliffe to Haven, when he discovers fate has another twist in store for him.</p><p>Yet another alternate Inquisitor fic...</p><p>*This story is not abandoned - working on new chapters as of June 2018*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He was running, from darkspawn? No, that didn't seem quite right and he couldn't sense any now. Had he been fighting darkspawn? It didn't matter, he has to keep running, whatever was following he didn't want it to catch up with him.

Was that someone ahead? It looked like a woman. Where even were they? It sort of looked like the Fade had, but that couldn't be right, the last he remembered he had been in Redcliffe. No, it has been Haven, hadn't it?

He was nearly at the woman now but he couldn't make out her face, as though there was a bright light just beyond her. He stumbled but she reached out a hand to him; he stretched to meet it and there was a flash of green light, then nothing.

He awoke slowly, struggling out of strange dreams. Maker's breath, the darkspawn dreams were the worst part of being a Warden. He stretched, or tried to, but something was restraining his wrists, and then he was suddenly wide awake. What the...?

He took in his surroundings at a glance. He was in a stone cell, with a barred door, no guards in the cell with him but at least one outside. He was still wearing his armour, and it felt pretty uncomfortable, but his weapons and shield were missing. His hands were shackled in front of him, the left one aching fiercely as he clenched his fists, and he looked down, expecting to see bruising or a half-healed injury as he opened it again. Instead he was surprised yet again at the vivid green glow which seemed to be coming from the slash across his palm, along with a sharp pain and a sensation of magic.

He didn't have time to dwell on it though as at that moment the door was flung open and several armed guards filed in, followed by a severe looking woman in Nevarran styled armour, wearing the symbol of the Seekers of Truth. The expression on her face quashed his instinctive sarcastic comment and instead he swallowed hard. Maker, why did she look so angry? Where they still looking for Kallian? How had he gotten here anyway?

The woman snarled at him, "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now?"

"You've only just met me," he said, deflecting as usual. It was clearly the wrong thing to say as the woman seemed to get angrier.

"The Conclave is destroyed," she said. "Everyone who attended is dead. Except you."

The words struck like a blow. Maker, no. There had been hundreds of people at the Conclave. He shook his head in denial - why couldn't he remember anything?

"Explain this?" she demanded, blunt nails digging into his hand as she turned it palm up and green lightning cracked across it again.

"It feels like magic?" he volunteered, not entirely certain she wanted an actual answer but unwilling to risk irritating her further if she did.

"How dare you?" He thought for a moment she was going to hit him and tensed against a strike but a hooded figure, who must have been waiting just outside the door, grabbed her arm, holding her back. "Cassandra, we need him."

He recognised the accent first, then a wave of indignation washed over him. "You said everyone at the Conclave was dead," he accused the Seeker - Cassandra, had Leliana called her?

She looked impassive. "You're hardly in a position to accuse us of lying," she replied.

Leliana stood between the two of them and looked at him imploringly. "Alastair, we need you to be honest with us. What were you even doing here?"

He supposed he shouldn't have expected a straight answer from her. "Well," he caught himself, it probably wasn't the right time to make a joke even if he was desperate to break the tension. He couldn't tell the whole truth, it would look bad under the circumstances, but he could offer part of it. "I have a letter for you, from Kallian. She says she's tired of Zevran's singing. It isn't as good as yours."

Her lips twitched and he figured that was as close to a smile as he was going to get. "I'd get it for you but my hands are kind of tied right now... and I don't know where my backpack is."

The Seeker still looked angry but Leliana had relaxed at least a little. "Tell us the truth about what happened and we'll release you."

Alistair frowned. "I'm not sure what was real and what was just a dream. I remember being chased, I thought it was darkspawn but that can't have been right. It looked like I was in the Fade and there was a woman. She reached out to me and there was a flash of green light... And that's it, then I woke up here, wherever here is."

Over his head he could tell Leliana and the Seeker were having a conversation of facial expressions but he couldn't tell if it was good or bad for him. Maker, he missed Kallian right now, though he was glad she wasn't caught up in this. Finally they seemed have come to a decision as Leliana turned to leave.

"You head to the forward camp," the Seeker told her, as she leant down to release him from his shackles. "I'll take him to the rift."

Alistair stumbled, his feet numb. How long had he been sat there? How long had it been since... actually neither woman had said how the Conclave had been destroyed. "What rift?" he asked. "What did happen?"

The Seeker frowned at him, though she looked less angry now. Our maybe he was just getting used to it. "It'll be easier to show you," she said, hesitating over the manacles at his wrists but ultimately removing them.

He followed her slowly, rubbing sore wrists, wincing as circulation returned to his feet. The cell turned out to be in one of the new buildings the Chantry had had constructed around the original village of Haven but Alistair didn't have any time to reminisce as his gaze was drawn to the sky where there an actual hole, outlined in the same sickly green as on his hand.

"We call it 'the Breach,'" the Seeker said. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows bigger with each passing hour." She turned back to face him. "It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused the explosion at the Conclave."

He didn't remember any explosion but the rest was clear enough. "So I was in the Fade then," he said, looking up at the eerily familiar light. The thought made him slightly queasy, like after eating much of that soft Orlesian cheese, as he remembered the last time he had been there and all he had lost then.

"It appears so." The Seeker shrugged, presumably unaware of his painful memories, continuing, "unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

Alistair shuddered as a pulse of energy, like multiple lightning strikes, crashed out of the Breach, then cried out as the mark on his hand flared and rocked him with agonising pain. His knees buckled with the strength of the pain, but there was no physical wound to show for it.

The Seeker reached out to support him but he waved her assistance away. "It's not so bad " he joked, "on a scale of one to fighting an archdemon. I just wasn't expecting it."

She nodded seriously. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads... and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

"This may sound obvious but the mark is magic, yes? And you are a Seeker? You have tried to dispel it, haven't you?"

"Yes, the mark and the rifts both," she said, sounding sympathetic for the first time. "It helped delay the spread but no more."

Alistair nodded and set his shoulders. "So, what's the plan for this rift then? I hope you're not just planning on pushing me into it and hoping for the best. Kallian would probably be upset."

The Seeker looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. "We'll find out shortly. It is our only chance - and yours."

"Wow. That sounds like a great offer. Well sure, my calendar's looking clear right now so I'm all yours."

She was starting to look murderous again and Alistair shut up, before she regretted keeping alive after all. Maybe she and Anora could start a little club. He swallowed down another comment as they reached the main street of the village and people fell silent.

The Seeker walked half a step behind him, a guiding hand on his shoulder blade. He got the impression she was glaring at the people they passed, daring them to speak out, from the way the occasional one stepped up as though to speak and then subsided.

He almost wished she would let them make their accusations, it would be better than the weight of their stares. It was an improvement on the last time he'd been to Haven - being attacked by crazed dragon cultists - but not by much. Still, he had never been able to bear silence. "You wouldn't think it was only 10 years ago since is these people were probably cheering me on the streets of Denerim."

She shot him a quelling look. "The people of Haven mourn our most Holy Divine Justinia. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars."

Alistair snorted in derision. Peace between mages and Templars was the last thing the Chantry wanted. No, they wanted the mages to agree to go back into their cages with a hollow promise the Templars would get a slap on the wrist for misbehaving.

"She brought their leaders together," the Seeker said firmly. "Now they're dead."

"The Conclave at White Spire was months ago," Alistair said and enjoyed the surprised look on her face. Did she think he wouldn't have heard about that? Surely they both knew he had been friends with Wynne if nothing else? "And I certainly know the leaders of the free mages weren't invited to Haven."

Indeed one of them had seen him off from Redcliffe just a few days earlier. * _Mother... Maker don't let that have been our final goodbye._ * The Seeker looked suspiciously at him again but Alistair wasn't going to hide where his sympathies lay. The Seekers of Truth were supposed to keep the Templars in line and look how well that had gone for Kirkwall - and now they too had broken away from the Chantry. Still, better not to reveal too much or they would start to look deeper into his motives for being here and Leliana had known him too long for him to get away with lying to her.

They had reached the town gates and the Seeker gestured for the guards to let them pass. "Come, it is not far."

"I think I'm going to need more than my sharp wit against demons," Alistair said. She turned to glare at him. "Are you really going to make me head out there without even a sword? Maker, you do actually believe I did this, don't you?"

"Someone did it and you are our only suspect," she said, then seemed to relent. "But you're right, I cannot protect you and myself. Wait here."

She walked over to one of the guards who was armed with two swords and, after a short muted conversation, she walked away with one of them, sheathing it on her own belt. "I will keep hold of it for now though," she said as she walked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so in case my default world state at the end of DA:O wasn't clear enough (and anyone is interested). Also, I'm assuming the events of the various side novels and comics occurred just without Alistair being King...
> 
> Kallian Tabris duels and kills Loghain. Alistair performs the Dark Ritual with Morrigan. After killing the Archdemon, Alistair is sent to Weisshaupt so they can learn how he was able to to it without dying (and because Queen Anora wants him out of the way). There he learns about his mother, Fiona. Over the next few years Alistair studies with the Wardens until, hearing rumours about Maric, he goes to Tevinter with Varric and Isabela. 
> 
> During the chaos of the Mage-Templar war, Alistair prevails upon Arl Teagan to offer a home to the rebel mages in Redcliffe.


	2. Chapter 2

Alistair shook his head but followed after her. At least he was still wearing armour and, even if he felt like he'd slept in it, that beat waking up in Fort Drakon in his smallclothes. It might not be his favoured heavy plate but the lighter dragonskin set would probably be more manoeuvrable and he had been amused at the thought of wearing it back to where they had fought the dragon.

They hadn't got very far when another wave of energy came out of the Breach accompanied by more of the shocking pain across his hand. He gasped, still not accustomed to it and the Seeker turned, her brow furrowed in concern. "The pulses are coming faster now," she said. 'The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face."

He waved her concern away. "I get it, we need to hurry. I'll be fine." He would have to be. For once Alistair was glad not to have a shield, he wasn't sure could have kept hold of it. She was still giving him a worried look so he tried a different approach. "So, you didn't mention it earlier, but how exactly did I survive the blast?"

She seemed to recognise the question for the deflection it was but answered anyway, even as they continued to walk. "They said you... stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No-one knows who she was."

Alistair nodded. He remembered a woman, though he hadn't seen her face. Then he shuddered as a different thought occurred to him, did that mean he'd been physically in the Fade, like the Magisters why had become the first darkspawn? He remembered sensing darkspawn taint there, or had it been here? He shook himself - Kallian had been pulled physically into the Fade at Blackmarsh and nothing had come of that... except that was how Justice had ended up being stuck here so maybe that wasn't something he wanted to dwell on. He realised the Seeker had waited for him to respond and forced a smile. "Out of a rift, huh? That puts me ahead of Kallian. For a place they say only mages can access, we seen to end up in the Fade a lot."

"Everything in the valley was destroyed," the Seeker said disapprovingly. "Including the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

Alistair was stung by her accusing tone as he remembered the sacred aura of the Temple and the trials they had faced to reach the Ashes. "I helped find the Temple, you think I would have wanted to see it destroyed?"

The Seeker looked surprised for a moment, then genuinely apologetic. "I was not aware you had been with the Warden at that time, but I should have realised."

"Forget it," Alistair said. "How much further is this rift?"

"Not much further now," she said, as they turned onto a bridge across a frozen river. But she has spoken too soon as yet another pulse of rift energy blasted down through the bridge, smashing it and sending them flying.

As they struggled to their feet, there was a smaller flash nearby and a shade pulled itself out of the ground. The Seeker thrust the spare sword in his direction. "If you try anything, I will ensure you regret it," she said, already stalking towards the creature, taunting it.

"Right..." like he was going to run off with this mark on his hand and a giant tear in the sky. Where exactly did she think he was going to go? But there was no time to argue with her, especially as a second shade appeared in front of him. It was the work of only a few blows to finish off the demon, even with a far inferior sword to that he was used to.

The Seeker dispatched her foe shortly after and they looked up at the now ruined bridge - there would be no getting back up that way - but Cassandra seemed to know which way to head instead. They followed the course of the river, encountering another couple of lesser shades, then a small group including wraiths at the bottom of a steep set of steps.

They could hear the sound of fighting now and as they rounded the corner at the top of the steps, Alistair was glad to see a familiar face, even if that was slightly overweighed by the sharp discomfort of the rift and the demons they were facing.

He and the Seeker joined the fray but the last enemy has only just fallen when the bald elf grabbed his left wrist and pulled him towards the rift saying "Quickly. Before more come through."

Only Alistair's surprise stopped him wrenching his hand back, which turned out to be for the best since as soon as he touched the rift there a pulse of magic, as though from his hand, and the rift folded in on itself and vanished in a matter of seconds.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"I did nothing," the elf said. "The credit is yours."

Alistair frowned looking at his hand. "You mean the mark?" He didn't feel any different but the magic had flowed through him. It was... disconcerting.

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark on your hand." The elf looked quite satisfied with himself. "I theorised the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake - and it seems I was correct."

Alistair nodded, magical theory still mostly went over his head but he did try to follow.

"Meaning it could also close the Breach itself." Cassandra interjected before he could ask any questions.

"Possibly," the elf inclined his head towards Alistair. "It appears you hold the key to our salvation."

"That's me," Alistair joked. "Saving the world and delivering witty one-liners."

"And here I thought we'd be ass deep in demons forever," Varric said, finally joining in on the conversation. "Good to see you've found yourself a hobby, dragon boy."

Alistair refused to give the dwarf the satisfaction of reacting to the nickname. "So, how exactly did you get dragged into this, Varric?" he asked instead. "Kirkwall politics get too dull for you without Hawke around?"

Varric looked almost embarrassed for a moment. "Technically I'm a prisoner, just like you."

"I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine," Cassandra said. "Clearly that is no longer necessary."

"Yet here I am," said Varric. "Lucky for you considering current events." He turned back to Alistair. "How did you get caught up in this mess anyway? I thought you were off East with the Hero?"

Was that supposed to be a leading question or did the dwarf really not know who Kallian was with? "Ah, she's taking a break, enjoying some sunshine." Did Varric's eyes widen at his emphasis on the last word? He wished he knew the dwarf's tells better. "Though knowing her she's probably still trying to solve everyone's problems, rescuing cats out of chantries..." Varric's expression closed up and Alistair moved quickly on. "But I'm glad to see you here anyway."

"You may reconsider that stance in time," the elf said drily.

"Aww, the Warden and I go way back. It'll be like old times in the valley, Chuckles," Varric laughed.

So Varric already knew the elf well enough give him a nickname, did he? Alastair wondered what the dwarf called the Seeker.

Speaking of, she didn't look very happy. "Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric but..."

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?" Varric interrupted. "Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me."

She turned away with a disgusted noise but didn't deny it.

"My name is Solas," the elf said. "If there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live."

"He means 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept,'" said Varric.

"I'm pleased to still be living too," Alistair said, taking the elf's appearance in. The baldness was deceptive, as he didn't otherwise look that old. The staff across his back said mage but the ragged dress said apostate. He would have to introduce him to Fiona at some point. "Warden-Constable Alistair Theirin," he said, smiling. "You seem to know a lot about of this..."

The elf seemed flattered but Cassandra appeared less impressed. "Solas is an apostate..."

Alistair gave her an unimpressed look - he had trained as a Templar, did she think he hadn't noticed that?

But Solas was quicker off the mark than him. "Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra," he said somewhat archly and Alistair couldn't help laughing. The elf looked surprised but continued, "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin."

"I'd certainly like to avoid going into the Fade again, if possible," Alistair said, "since it always seems to be the signal for a disaster." Then a sudden thought occurred to him. "Hold on, if you came because of the Breach, how long ago did it happen? How long was I unconscious?"

None of the three would meet his eyes, all seemingly waiting for someone else to speak. Finally it was Cassandra who broke the silence. "It has been... several days since the explosion."

"Days?" Redcliffe was only a couple of days from here and they had surely seen the Breach. What news might already have reached them? "Maker's breath..."

"There is no time," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "We must get to the forward camp quickly."

He nodded, pushing his concerns aside. There was no point making plans when he might not survive closing the Breach, or it might not work after all.

They followed another set of steps down to the next loop of the frozen river and found yet more shades.

"Glad you brought me now, Seeker?" Varric asked, setting Bianca up. Cassandra didn't deign him with a response.

The fighting went easier now there were more of them though Alistair was starting to miss his shield, even if the intermittent sensations across his hand left him uncertain how surely he would be able to wield it. He hesitated over the idea taking one from a fallen warrior but decided against it - what if it made harder to use the mark's power?

Alistair didn't remember there being this many steps the first time they'd come to Haven but then he didn't think they'd been this far along the river.

"I hope Leliana made it through this safely," Cassandra fretted and he wondered if she had never seen the bard fight.

"We will see for ourselves at the forward camp," Solas reassured her. "We're nearly there."

So they might be but there were more enemies to get through first and then, was that another rift ahead? It was, with the gates of the forward camp only just beyond it.

"Hurry," Solas urged him. "Use the mark."

Alistair could feel a pull from the rift, even from this distance but he wasn't sure how it was supposed to work. Did he need to actually touch the rift to close it?

They quickly dispatched the shades around the rift and he cautiously approached, tentatively holding his hand up towards it. It turned out he didn't need to touch it at all; he was still a sword's length away when the rift started to react to the mark. Alistair gritted his teeth against long ingrained instincts which wanted to pull away from the magic, instead allowing it to flow out of him until the rift snapped shut.

There was a relieved sigh from behind him but he couldn't tell which of his companions had made it. Cassandra called for the gates to be opened and Solas congratulated him on his success.

"Whatever that thing on your hand is, it's useful," Varric said.

Alistair shuddered. Useful it might be but it was decidedly unpleasant, and these were just the small rifts. His eyes were drawn up to the hole in the sky. How exactly did they expect him to reach it anyway?

Passing through the gates he could see Leliana in conversation with a man in Chantry robes. Some kind of administrator? The Seeker led them over and Alistair didn't miss the look of disdain on the man's face as he saw them coming.

"Ah, here they are," said Leliana, looking up with a smile. "Chancellor Roderick, this is..."

"I know who he is," Roderick interrupted. He looked Alistair and down with a sneer. Ah, Chantry officials, how he hadn't missed them. "As Grand-Chancellor of the Chantry," Roderick continued, full of self-importance, "I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."

Alistair opened his mouth to point out that, as a Grey Warden, the Chantry had no jurisdiction over him, but then caught himself. That would only prompt ugly comparisons to what Anders had done in Kirkwall, and it was his innocence he wanted them to focus on, not the lack of accountability.

Fortunately Cassandra was equally annoyed with the man, if for different reasons. "Order me? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat."

The Grand-Chancellor sneered. "And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!"

Alistair thought the Seeker would strike the man and almost felt sorry for him - presumably he was only in charge here because all his superiors were dead, and he knew how that felt.

"We serve the most Holy, Chancellor, as well you know," Leliana said softly, seemingly trying to defuse the situation.

It didn't work. "Justinia is dead!" he almost shouted. "We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the matter."

And in the meantime the Breach would just be allowed to grow? That was typical of the Chantry, what happened to Ferelden didn't bother them. Still, he couldn't stay silent. "So you're just going to ignore the giant hole in the sky?"

The man glared at him then turned back to Cassandra. "Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless."

She stood her ground. "We can stop this before it's too late."

"How?" The Chancellor had clearly lost faith. "You won't survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers."

Cassandra refused to give up. "We must get to the Temple. It's the quickest route."

Fortunately Leliana had a better plan. "But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains."

Cassandra looked doubtful. "We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It's too risky."

"Listen to me," said the Chancellor, perhaps sensing she was wavering. "Abandon this now before more lives are lost!"

Maker but the man was an idiot. Did he think lives wouldn't be lost if they abandoned the rifts and left demons to wander the countryside unchallenged? Or maybe it didn't matter if they were Fereldan lives. Before he could say anything however there was another strong pulse from the Breach and the energy crackled across his hand stronger than ever. The green light drew everyone's attention to him, ending their argument. Alistair felt suddenly self-conscious as Cassandra looked at him assessingly. "How do you think we should proceed?"


	3. Chapter 3

Alistair’s mind went blank. Maker, he hated being the one making decisions - that was why Kallian had ended up Warden Commander of Ferelden and Anora its Queen. What was the choice again? Nevermind, the Seeker had left him an easy out. "I trust Leliana's opinion on that."

She frowned but accepted his choice, such as it was, and turned to Leliana. "Bring everyone in the valley. Everyone."

As they turned to leave, Chancellor Roderick bent over his makeshift desk, looking tired. "On your head be the consequences, Seeker."

Cassandra didn't acknowledge his words but Alistair saw the tight expression on her face. She didn't look at all certain this was even going to work, but had clearly made her mind up to try. He felt determined do his best to prove worthy of that decision.

The snow was still falling as they trudged up the mountain and the wind became even more bitter as it swirled about them. The tunnels through the mountain were reached by a series of ladders and, as they climbed, Varric asked about the missing soldiers. Solas was quick to point out they would also encounter whatever had detained them and so none of them were surprised to be beset by wraiths and shades as soon as they entered the old mine.

The passages were dark and twisting but eventually they came out into daylight - and the bodies of three soldiers. Cassandra hastily noted it wasn't the whole of the missing patrol and Varric wondered if the others might still be holed up ahead but Solas reminded them the Breach had to be their priority.

Alistair felt the pressure: this wasn't even like the Archdemon where at least Kallian could have taken the blow, there was literally no-one else who could do this. The Maker really had a cruel sense of humour, didn't he?

Fortunately the missing soldiers were easily found, fighting shades around another of the smaller rifts. Alistair didn't even wait to check with the others before wading into the fray. This time more shades spawned out of the rift before he got close enough to focus on it but it was still soon closed.

Solas looked at him with approval and it was strange how quickly he has come to appreciate that support. "You are becoming quite proficient at this," he said and Alistair had to stop himself saying something self-deprecating.

He needn't have worried as Varric was happy to remind them they still had more to do. "Let's hope it works on the big one."

The Seeker spoke briefly with the Lieutenant they had rescued, giving Alistair the credit for saving them. He flushed, denying it was anything special before Cassandra sent the woman and her squad back the way they had just cleared. The path ahead also appeared clear for the moment so they moved on as quickly as they could.

Alistair kept up alongside the Seeker but could still hear Varric questioning Solas' knowledge of the rifts. "So, holes in the Fade don't just accidentally happen, right?". Was he trying to blame him for this after all, Alistair wondered. He had thought Varric trusted him more than that, but then again the dwarf had known Anders pretty well before he had blown up a chantry.

"If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible," Solas told him.

"But there are easier ways to make things explode," Varric said.

Solas agreed but Cassandra, Maker bless her, cut the conversation off before they could get into any further discussion about it saying, "We will consider how this happened once the immediate danger is past."

Providing they all survived, he assumed.

The wind carried the scent from the remains of the Temple before they saw it - burning wood and flesh and stone dust in the air where walls damaged by the explosion were still unstable.

The sight was still a shock - Alistair could hardly recognise this as the site of the Temple he had known. Worse were the charred, and in some cases still burning, corpses of those had been in the Temple at the time. He felt sickened by it and even more so when Cassandra pointed out the spot where he had apparently walked out of the Fade. How could he, how could anyone, have survived this amount of destruction? Denerim had looked in better condition after being ravaged by a darkspawn horde. Maker, Ostagar was more intact than this despite centuries of decay.

His first sight of the main rift was from a distance but the sheer size of it was still daunting. It seemed to go all the way up to the Breach but despite that there were no signs of any demons around it. He didn't have enough time to worry about it though before Leliana caught up with them along with her people.

Cassandra ordered them to take up positions around the rift then turned to him. "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

He forced a smile. "Sure. It can't be worse than an Archdemon, right?". He looked back to the rift. "Though I don't know how you plan to get me to it? The Grey Wardens are all out of griffons just now."

"This rift was the first," Solas said, "and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

Well, that would certainly be easier. Although this rift was considerably larger than the ones he... or rather the mark had already closed and the feel of the magic flowing through him for those had been bad enough. In war, victory; in death, sacrifice, he reminded himself. This Breach was just as likely as the Blight end the world and he had already survived stopping that.

But Cassandra was talking while he was woolgathering. "... find a way down. And be careful."

It looked as though there might be steps down to the open area around the rift on the other side of this gallery so Alistair led the way cautiously. There was a scratching feeling at the back of his mind, like he got around darkspawn, but not quite, and not right for another Warden either. Was this Breach somehow related to the darkspawn or the taint? A plan by the Architect to force their hand on turning everyone into Wardens? Kallian said she had killed him but who knew with ancient darkspawn?

"Now is the hour of our victory," came a sudden deep voice. Alistair had his sword drawn before he registered that it had come from the direction of the rift. There was no visible change in the rift itself but the voice reverberated as though it were all around them. "Bring forth the sacrifice."

Cassandra was the first to respond. "What are we hearing?"

"At a guess," Solas said, "the person who created the Breach."

How that was possible he didn't elaborate and when the voice didn't continue they moved on, still circling the area of the rift, looking for an intact staircase or even a collapsed section of wall they could clamber down. There were some red crystalline deposits on the ruined walls and Alistair could feel the scratching in the back of his mind intensify but not enough to put a finger on anything specific. For a rare moment he wished for a stronger sense of the taint. It was so frustrating to feel something was wrong yet not be able to explain it.

Varric paused to look at the crystals."You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker."

"I see it, Varric," she said.

Alistair frowned. "Like the idol you and Hawke found? And the sword that corrupted Meredith?" He had heard all about their near disastrous Deep Roads expedition but this wasn't a single piece. Maker, it was all over the place.

"The same," Varric said. "But what's it doing here?"

"Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the Temple," Solas suggested. "Corrupted it..."

Corrupted it? Why did that feel... oh - Alistair had a flash of memory, powdered blue lyrium in the bottom of a cup, steadily turning red as black darkspawn blood was poured over it. Then there was the way his darkspawn sense was tingling. Could it be Blighted?

"It's evil," Varric was continuing. "Whatever you do, don't touch it."

Definitely not. But should he speak up about his suspicions? On the one hand, the Wardens needed to be told - he hadn't even known lyrium could be tainted. It wasn't alive, was it? On the other hand, the Joining was one of the core Warden secrets...

He was saved from having to make a decision by reaching an intact set of stairs and the need to reach the rift. As they headed down, the voice came again. "Keep the sacrifice still."

Then "Someone help me!" came a second voice, this time a woman's.

"That is Divine Justinia's voice!" Cassandra said, giving him a hard look.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs the mark on his hand sparked and the woman's voice came again. "Someone help me!"

It was followed by one of the strangest experiences in Alistair's decidedly strange life as he heard his own voice echoing like the others. "What's going on here?" Maker's balls, that was weird.

"That was your voice," Cassandra turned to him, confusion evident in her tone. "Most Holy called out to you. But..."

Then the rift flared, the flash of green almost blinding and the mark burned with a sharp pain. When Alistair was aware of his surroundings again, a thick fog had filled the area.

Above then a vision - like a scene playing out on some ghostly stage - appeared of a woman. The Divine, arms outstretched as though being restrained by someone or something they couldn't see. He was reminded of the elven spirits they had seen in the ruins in the Brecilian Forest. Then he got to watch himself walk into the scene asking, "What's going on?"

What was going on? He had no memory of this - was it what had actually happened?

The Divine, or the image of her at least, answered, "Run while you can! Warn them!" Warn who?

Another image came into view; the shadowy outline of a towering figure, with glowing red holes where its eyes should be. "We have an intruder," it said, the voice recognisable as the one they had heard earlier. "Kill him, now!"

Even knowing he had survived, that he had somehow escaped, didn't stop a rush of fear at those words.

There was another brilliant flash of green light from the rift and the vision vanished. The rift hadn't changed, still hovering menacingly.

"You were there!" Cassandra sounded almost frantic. "Who attacked? And the Divine, is she...? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

Alistair had the feeling she would have shaken the information out of him if she could. He only wished he could answer her. "I don't remember," he said, frustrated with his own failure.

"Echoes of what happened here," Solas said, and it took a moment for Alistair to realise he was answering Cassandra's question. "The Fade bleeds into this place."

Alistair shuddered. It was true the Veil was thinner here, not just the Breach itself. He could feel it, just like at Kinloch Hold. Of course, it would be with so many deaths, so much fear and pain, but the idea it could cause something like that vision was troubling.

Solas finished his examination of the rift and turned back to them. "This rift not sealed, but it is closed... albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely."

Alistair couldn't help thinking this would be the perfect time if the elf was planning on betraying them: it was awfully convenient, turning up an expert while the Chantry forces were in disarray, offering assistance, even allowing the lesser rifts to be closed, to get to this point where they would trust his advice in dealing with this one. Not that the elf had given him any reason to distrust him; Alistair certainly wasn't going to hold his apostate status against him, after all he had worked with several - Morrigan, Bethany Hawke, Anders... well, maybe he wasn't such a good example but still, it wasn't as though Circle mages were somehow immune from criticism - Uldred, who had caused so much destruction at Kinloch Hold, had been a Senior Enchanter, and then Orsino at Kirkwall too.

Then, in Solas' favour, he didn't set off any of the alarms left over from Alistair's Templar training; no, he had to believe the elf was genuine in his offer of assistance. Plus Cassandra was taking his advice at face value, ordering soldiers and archers into position ready to deal with any demons which would be attracted to the reopened rift, and she had had more time to get to know him.

Cassandra nodded at him then and Alistair took a deep breath, then held his hand up towards the rift. The feeling was different this time and he felt like he had less control over it, as though the rift was drawing the power from the mark as much as he was directing it. Once it had started he wasn't sure he would be able to pull away even something went wrong, but just as he had begun to doubt it was working there was another flash from the rift and a massive Pride demon appeared on their side of it.

For a moment Alistair felt dizzy with the energies that had passed through him and was hardly aware of Leliana telling the archers to loose. Then it passed, as the crack of the demon's whip resounded in the air, and he moved to try and help Cassandra to flank it, allowing Varric, Solas and Leliana's forces to work on wearing it down from range. The demon was well-armoured, protected by its thick skin, and resistant to many of their tricks. They were hurting it but at this rate it would take a lot of putting down, increasing the chance of more coming through. He wished he had his good sword.

"Quickly," said Cassandra. "Disrupt the rift!"

How exactly, he wanted to ask, but neither of them really had the breath to spare for discussion. It was taking all his skill not to let the demon past to their less-protected allies and Cassandra had already taken several heavy blows. Still, she had a point, disrupting the rift should hopefully prevent the arrival of more demons and could even weaken it.

He withdrew cautiously, not wanting to give the demon any reason to focus on him, and only when he was clear did he turn to the rift. He could feel the energy sparking over his hand as he held it up again, this time thinking about closing it. Magic flowed through him, the rift flared and sparks flew, the demon staggering.

"The demon is vulnerable," cried Cassandra. "Now!"

They all redoubled their efforts, the demon now clearly weakening but still a threat. It also seemed to register the arrows and spells coming in at it and struck out with its whip, targeting Varric and Solas, partially protected by the glow of a barrier, then Leliana and her archers.

Alistair almost fell into the role he had always taken for Kallian, drawing the enemies' attention to him, letting himself take the brunt of the damage, despite the lack of a shield, but the rift pulsed and his hand ached as more shades appeared and he was reminded he had a different duty here. As far as they knew he was only one with any hope of sealing the rift and he needed to be alive for that - and presumably awake too or they would have tried to use the mark while he was unconscious.

He resisted the habit, instead focusing on getting rid of the demon so they could finally close the rift, even attempting to disrupt it further when Cassandra drew the demon's attention away for long enough. Each time there were sparks of energy, each time his hand ached more and now it seemed he could feel it pulsing through his whole body.

There was black at the edges of his vision, his ears rang and when the Pride demon finally fell he could barely hear Cassandra as she ordered him to seal the rift.

He turned back to it, the world seeming to spin around him as he held out his aching arm. *Let this be the end of it,* he prayed, *even if it kills me.*

The energy flowed through him again, relentless, draining him. Then, just as he was certain he couldn't take it any longer, the rift imploded with an incredible bright light and his last thought before unconsciousness took him was not of the rift at all but the memory of the Archdemon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, this is slightly late. Ended up splitting it into two chapters, so the next one is half-written at least. However, I'm away over the weekend so expect that next Monday.

He went from sleeping to awake in an instant but lay still, taking in his surroundings. There was a brief moment where he expected to be lying on the stone floor of Fort Drakon with Kallian and their companions, then the events of the last 10 years rushed in to fill the gap.

He opened his eyes and the obviously Fereldan decor threw him. What if he was waking up in Denerim or Redcliffe and it had all been a dream?

He sat up to get a look around and immediately startled the elven serving girl whose quiet entrance into the room must have been what awakened him.

She dropped the box she was carrying and stumbled backwards, her hand coming up to cover her surprise. "Oh! I didn't know you were awake, I swear!"

How long had he been unconscious this time? And had they told anyone yet? Fiona and Teagan would be frantic. But first to calm the poor girl. "It's alright," he said, attempting a reassuring smile. "I only just..."

Instead of seeming reassured, she dropped her knees, bowing until her forehead touched the carpeted floor. "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing," she said, in an awed tone. "I am but a humble servant."

This was... not good. The people of Denerim had looked him like that after the end of the Blight but he hadn't stayed around long enough to get used to it. The Wardens at Weisshaupt had been less overawed and more interested in how he'd managed to survive, at least until they had worked out whose son he was. Still, it probably meant closing the rift had worked if he was being treated as a hero again. "Where am I?" he asked. "What happened?"

"You are back in Haven, my lord," she said, pulling herself up into a crouch but not rising entirely too her feet. "They say you saved us again." The worshipping look on her face made Alistair feel extremely nervous, his stomach churning - or was it just hunger?

"The Breach stopped growing," the girl continued, "just like the mark on your hand."

His hand! It hadn't ached like before so he hadn't even thought to look. If he was being honest, he had hoped the mark would be gone once the Breach was dealt with but when he looked down he found it was still there - now a steady green glow emanating from the slash across his palm.

The girl was still speaking though. "It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days."

Three days, that wasn’t so bad, but being the prime subject of conversation was concerning. Alistair hadn't thought closing a magic portal would be notable as slaying an Archdemon. Then again, surviving both was probably what did it; dying might have been easier.

Evidently noticing his distraction, the servant girl had got back to her feet. "I'm certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you've wakened," she said, backing towards the door. "She said 'At once.'"

So Cassandra was behind this, of course. Well, at least he now knew she had survived too. Alistair wondered what had happened to the elf, Solas, and if Varric was alright. "And where is Lady Cassandra," he asked the girl. He would have to go talk to her himself, see if he was free to leave now.

"In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor." The servant had reached the door now, fumbling for the handle without taking her eyes off him. "'At once,' she said," and with that she was gone.

Alistair shook his head. Maker, that was strange. He stood and stretched, feeling better than he would have expected after three days of unconsciousness. Looking around the room, he found his clothes had been laundered and his armour was cleaned and ready for him. Not only that but apparently he was trusted enough that his sword and shield had been returned. He washed and dressed, deciding not to worry about armour for the moment but he did strap on his sword belt, to make a point.

He was fairly certain he remembered where the new Chantry in Haven was and could find it on his own. He realised he had made a mistake the moment he left the small cabin he'd apparently been left alone in. He had expected there to be a handful of people in the streets, whispers following him, maybe even a couple brave enough to speak to him directly. But not this.

There was an actual crowd gathered outside the cabin and the guards who stepped aside as he tentatively walked forward looked as though they were there as an honour guard, rather than his jailers. Which was ridiculous, he wasn't anyone important - and he hoped they were Chantry forces or Anora was going to throw a fit.

As he walked Alistair overheard one man telling his friend, "That's him - the Herald of Andraste" and it took him several paces before he registered that they meant him. They were calling him what now?

Part of him wanted to stop and find out what it meant, correct them, but these were all Chantry folk - Cassandra or Leliana would be able to deal with them better than he. The sooner he found them and got all this sorted out the better.

He heard several more such comments as he made his way across the town to the Chantry building, which was where he remembered, and he only hesitated outside a moment, eavesdropping on the guards as they discussed Chancellor Roderick's insistence that the Chantry would have nothing to do with them. Alistair found himself agreeing with the one pointing it was hardly the Chancellor's decision to make, before he pulled himself together and headed in.

When he entered there was no-one else in sight but it only took a moment to identify the raised voices coming from behind the thick door ahead. He recognised the person saying "Have you gone completely mad?" as Chancellor Roderick. He didn’t necessarily like the man’s next suggestion that he should be taken to Val Royeaux for trial but it was still better than Loghain had offered.

As Alistair walked towards the door, he couldn’t help overhearing their continued conversation as neither the Chancellor nor Seeker Cassandra seemed to be making any effort to keep their voices down. It was good to know Cassandra no longer believed he caused the explosion nor the Breach but he could hardly fault Roderick for doubting him.

He hesitated with his hand on the handle of the door - if he interrupted now would they realise he had been listening? Then again, if Roderick stormed off, as he seemed likely to do, it would look worse if he was standing outside the door and no doubt the servant girl had told them he was on his way.

Alistair took a deep breath then turned the handle. The room was obviously a study of some kind, possibly having belonged to the Revered Mother of the Haven Chantry, who had presumably died with the Divine at the Conclave. It was probably not Roderick’s since it was Cassandra stood behind the desk, with Leliana at her side.

As he entered, the Chancellor turned to the guards on either side of the door and ordered them to place him under arrest. Alistair was tempted to make a comment about Anora’s welcome when Roderick mentioned taking him to ‘the capital’ for trial, since Haven was well within Ferelden’s borders but he knew the man meant Val Royeaux and it probably wasn’t wise to antagonise him just yet.

Cassandra shook her head at the guards anyway, telling them to disregard those orders and leave. Unsurprisingly they did as she said; Alistair had only known her for a day - well, four if the servant girl was right about how long it had been, though he’d been unconscious for three so they don’t really count - but he could already tell it was not smart to argue with her.

Roderick clearly wasn’t smart, or else thought way too highly of his own importance as he told her, "You walk a dangerous line, Seeker."

Alistair resisted the urge to comment as Cassandra stalked over to him. She had the right idea, reminding the man of his duty; he had seen the hole in the sky, surely he knew it would need to be dealt with. As long as the Breach remained, it was dangerous. Alistair might have rejected the crown but the Fereldans were still his people and he would not abandon them to this threat.

Unfortunately the Chancellor still couldn’t see past his initial prejudice, insisting that Alistair must have been the one behind it. Leliana finally spoke up, coming to stand at his side, but Roderick refused to let it go.

It all had the sound of an argument which had been played out multiple times already, with the only difference being this time he was actually here to be fought over. Alistair tuned it out, wondering if it would be rude to ask if he could get something to eat whilst they decided his fate.

It wasn’t until Roderick gestured angrily in his direction that he turned his attention away from the prospect of food and back to the matter in hand but when Cassandra told him, in all apparent seriousness, that the Maker had sent him to them in their darkest hour he had to scoff.

“I’m hardly a ‘Chosen One,’” he said and then immediately quailed under her disapprovingly look.

She sounded so certain as she told him, “You are exactly what we needed when we needed it” and he winced internally at the thought of her expression when he inevitably disappointed her, as he had done to Eamon and Duncan and Kallian over the years. He wasn’t a great hero - he didn’t even know how he had closed the rifts, that was all on Solas.

Roderick looked equally unconvinced, at least they had that in common, and when Leliana pointed out that the mark on Alistair’s hand remained their only chance of closing the Breach it was clearly aimed at the Chancellor as much as himself.

When Roderick continued to protest, Cassandra slammed down a thick book on the desk. It was clear the Chancellor recognised it but she rubbed in his face how it was their writ from the Divine, authorising them to act. It was her next words which were most alarming to Alistair though, “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition Reborn.” 

Alistair felt a flicker of memory from his Templar training - the Inquisition had been the precursor to the Chantry and the original Templar Order, hadn’t it? Hardly a fortuitous connection given recent events and Cassandra didn’t make it sound any better as she announced how they would close the Breach, find those responsible and restore order.

Roderick couldn’t seem to decide which of him and Cassandra he most wanted to glare at before he turned and stalked out. They probably hadn’t heard the last of him but, for now, perhaps one of the others could explain to him about this Inquisition they had apparently dragged him into.

Leliana caught his confused look and explained the Divine had directed them to rebuild the Inquisition of old and find allies who would stand against the chaos. Alistair flinched at the implication of that even as she continued, “I know we aren’t ready, we have no leaders, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

“Just like back during the Blight,” Alistair quipped, as he tried to hide his discomfort. Before Kallian had found Leliana in a tavern it had been just the two of them, Morrigan and Dog, being hunted down by Loghain’s forces. If it were just that he wouldn’t object, but he suspected their idea of restoring order was to try and lock the mages back into the Circles rather than actually finding a way for them to live peacefully together.

Leliana looked as though she wanted to smile but it was Cassandra who continued, “I knew you would understand. We have no choice, we must act now. With you at our side.”

"And what exactly do you see us doing?" he asked.

"We must band together," she said earnestly, "to bring order to a world gone mad."

He shook his head. How typical of the Chantry, to speak of madness when this was all a mess of their own making. All the mages were demanding was the same rights as everyone else; the true blame lay at the feet of the Templars. If the Seekers had done their job, reined people like Knight-Commander Meredith in when they had the chance, they wouldn't have been in this situation now, trying to start a holy war. "I want no part of your crusade," he told her.

"You are already involved, whether you like it or not," Cassandra insisted.

"Really?” he said. “And what if I refuse?”

She looked shocked at the very suggestion even as Leliana tried to play peacemaker, saying, "You can go if you wish," but her expression said it would be a bad idea.

Cassandra was less subtle, practically threatening him. "Many still think you guilty," she said. "The Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us."

Like you protected Divine Justinia, he wanted to ask, but held his tongue. He had thought he and Cassandra had come to an understanding but maybe not.

"We can also help you," Leliana promised.

“How exactly?” Alistair asked, trying to restrain his sarcasm.

Cassandra gave him what was presumably supposed to be a sympathetic look. “I know it will not be easy if you stay but you cannot pretend this has not changed you.”

He laughed. "When has my life ever been easy?" He might play the fool but he wasn't one. He sighed. “Very well, I’ll stay. For now at least. But I need to get a message to my family.”

Cassandra frowned but Leliana only nodded - she had met Eamon and Teagan during the Blight after all, maybe even realised that Connor was amongst the free mages in Redcliffe, even if she didn’t have the full picture. “I’m sure that can be arranged,” she said but he got the feeling anything he sent would likely be censored by them.

Alistair retreated back to the cabin which was apparently now his. Leliana assured him he was free to wander the town but he didn't feel equipped to handle either hero worship or accusations just now.

He only meant to lie down for a moment but it seemed he was still recovering and he ended up sleeping through until dinner. He managed to persuade the serving girl to bring him some writing paper and stayed awake long enough to draft a short note to Fiona and Teagan assuring them of his continued well-being. Hopefully it would be neutral enough to get past Leliana’s checks and, though he needed to get a full message to them, he had no idea how he would be able to get it delivered.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning Cassandra sent a messenger requesting he came to the Chantry so she could introduce him to the other members of the Inquisition's command. Alistair was reluctant to face the crowds around Haven again but he wanted to know the people he would be working with more.

Fortunately, the streets were clearer this time, the majority of people having presumably sated their curiosity already, and he reached the main doors of the Chantry without incident.

The Seeker met him there and led him into the same room as the previous day where they were joined by Leliana and two others. The first was a dark-skinned woman holding some kind of odd contraption, a wooden board with sheets of paper attached and its own built in candleholder.

Cassandra drew his attention from her to the other person in the room - a familiar looking man in plate armour and a fur-lined cloak. “May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces,” she said, and the man stepped forward.

Oh yes, Alistair recognised Cullen now, though he had changed from the shy Templar he remembered in Kinloch Hold. It took a lot of willpower not to just walk out of the room, especially when Leliana, at least, should have known better. “Cullen?” he asked, tone as cold as he could manage. “You couldn’t find... anyone else?"

Leliana frowned at him. “Commander Cullen seeks to restore order, as we all do.”

Alistair felt disappointed in her; even if she had learned nothing of his personal loyalties, surely she remembered their first meeting? Then again, she had had too much faith in the good intentions of the Chantry even then. Still, he wouldn't stay quiet now he had the chance to speak out. “And you would give him the power to do that, after what happened in Kirkwall? Leliana, you heard him back at Kinloch Hold. He doesn’t even believe mages are people and you think you have any chance of peace with him leading your forces?”

Cassandra looked confused. “You trained as a Templar... “

He interrupted her, not wanting to hear where that was going, “And I left, as soon as I got an opportunity, because I couldn’t become that sort of person.”

“But you understand that magic is dangerous," she said. "That mages...”

“Are people too,” he insisted, “who deserve protection and the chance to live free from persecution just like anyone else.”

“Cullen is a good man…” she argued, looking to the man, clearly expecting him to defend himself.

Cullen hadn’t said a word in his own defense, was rather looking down at the table as though he was ashamed of his past. Well he should be, but maybe it was a point in his favour too.

Cassandra’s argument tailed off and Cullen finally looked up. “I’m not proud of what I’ve done,” he says.

Alistair raised an eyebrow and waited expectantly for the excuses he was certain would follow.

Instead, the Templar looked visibly shaken, “I’ve changed, I swear. This is my way of repairing some of the damage done by my inaction in Kirkwall.”

It was a convincing show, at least, but Alistair wasn’t sure he could forget that easily. Nor was he the one who needed to forgive him.

Leliana took that moment to step forward, breaking the tension. "May I present Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat," she said.

The ambassador turned an assessing look on him saying, “I’ve heard much. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.” The Antivan accent made him wonder who she had heard about him from, but it would be rude to assume all Antivans were connected to the Crows. It could even have just been from Leliana herself.

He wasn’t given a chance to respond before Cassandra interjected, “And of course you already know Sister Leliana.”

She smiled at him sympathetically. “It will be good to work with you again, Alistair.”

He had heard from Kallian that Leliana had slipped back into her old habits working for the Chantry. "I guess you're not just an archer anymore."

“Yes, my duties for the Inquisition are, well…”

Cassandra was quick to cut off any discussion. “She is our Spymaster.”

He snorted in amusement and Leliana turned her glare from Cassandra to him but a decade’s distance had blunted its effectiveness. “So why exactly am I here?” he asked. “What do you need from me? My sharp wit?”

The Seeker frowned at him even as she explained their theory that the mark on his hand needed more power to be able to shut down the Breach for good. Alistair shuddered as he thought about how the power already within it had felt flowing through him into the rift.

Leliana’s suggestion was that they should approach the ‘rebel’ mages for help and Alistair found himself wondering if she really wasn’t aware exactly what his connection to them was. Of course, Cullen tried to argue that the Templars could assist just as well and Alistair just about managed not to get drawn into an argument until the man said, “I was a Templar, I know what they’re capable of.”

Alistair cut him off. “Yes, well, unfortunately there are no mages around for you to torture right now so that’s not so helpful.”

Cullen flinched and the ambassador, Lady Montilyet, was the one to break up their argument that time, pointing out that neither group would speak to them currently. Alistair was trying to decide if he wanted to offer his services, not in an official manner of course, when she turned to face him. “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition - and you, specifically.”

Alistair shrugged. “That’s hardly a surprise, is it? They don’t care about the Breach, they just hate anything which threatens their power.”

She looked surprised at his cynicism but nodded. “Some are calling you the ‘Herald of Andraste’ and that frightens the Chantry.”

“It frightens me too,” he said, only half in jest.

Lady Montilyet explained the Chantry had declared the title blasphemy and them all heretics, no matter that the Chantry were the ones who had twisted Andraste’s teachings. As much as the idea did indeed terrify him, there was a part of Alistair which wondered if Andraste could indeed have chosen him as her champion, here in the same place he was deemed worthy to take a pinch of her Sacred Ashes all those years ago.

The ambassador went on to explain how the Chantry's stance had limited their options; meaning it was out of the question for them to approach the mages or the templars at this point. It was clear she, at least, was unaware of his connection with Fiona and since none of the others had mentioned it, Alistair felt perhaps it was safer to stay that way, at least until he could speak with her in private. Instead he turned back to Cassandra and asked, "Well, what do you want me to do?"

It turned out this was a point of contention between them since there were so many things the fledgling organisation needed and so few people to achieve them. Alistair noted they hadn't brought up the subject of the Grey Wardens at all and was determined not to be the first. Besides, until he learnt more about the tainted lyrium, he couldn't be certain if they would wish to become involved.

Finally Leliana turned to him. "There is something you can do. A Chantry cleric called Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far and knows those involved far better than I. Her advice could be invaluable."

They thought it would be a good idea to send him to speak to a cleric, when they had just told him the Chantry had declared him a heretic? What exactly were they hoping to achieve? Why would she even want to talk to him anyway?

"And you think she'd be willing to help us?"

Leliana nodded thoughtfully. "I understand she is a reasonable woman. Perhaps she does not agree with her sisters. You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe."

Alistair wracked his brain to remember if he had met a Mother Giselle around Redcliffe before, or if Teagan had ever mentioned her. He supposed that would be a good reason for her to doubt the official story and it couldn't hurt to try. Besides, it would give him a chance to get a private message to Fiona and Teagan.

Once he had agreed, Cullen tentatively asked him to look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while he was there. When he looked dubious, Lady Montilyet explained how they needed agents to extend their influence and he was ideally placed to recruit them. Alistair supposed it would be less demanding than recruiting for the Grey Wardens and at least he could ensure anyone he recruited had the right sort of ideas about what the Inquisition should be doing.

Despite his agreement, Cassandra insisted they should continue to look at other options, that she wouldn't leave it all to 'the Herald.' He was surprised she seemed to have accepted the title so easily. Did she really believe he had been chosen or was it just politically expedient to claim the Inquisition had Andraste's blessing?

Alistair spent most of the next couple of days introducing himself to the few other members of the Inquisition's senior staff, whilst Leliana sent out scouts to locate Mother Giselle. Minaeve, their researcher, turned out of be a former apprentice from one of the Circles who wanted him to collect all sorts of souvenirs from the demons and other creatures he encountered so she could investigate . 

Adan, the apothecary, was too busy keeping up with the demand for healing potions to be able to speak with him for long but seemed impressed that he knew the difference between elf root and death root - as though Morrigan and Wynne hadn't drummed that into him during their travels. Alistair agreed he would continue to look out for such ingredients on his journey.

He thought he recognised Harrith, the smith, and so wasn't surprised when the man explained he was from Lothering originally and that he probably owed his life to Alistair and Kallian helping clear the roads so they could evacuate ahead of the darkspawn horde. He joked about their shared luck: after Lothering he had moved to Redcliffe, but had been pushed out of his new home when the mages had arrived, settling here just *in time for* the explosion at the Conclave. Still he insisted he held no grudge against Alistair for it and instead wanted to talk about his armour and sword. He was impressed when he discovered the dragonscale armour had been made by the master armoursmith, Wade, and Alistair was forced to share stories about the man and how he was now settled at Vigil's Keep. Harrith was also interested in the runes embedded into his sword and Alistair found himself telling him about all Sandal too. He made a mental note to ask Varric where the dwarf and his father had ended up since they had been working for Hawke in Kirkwall.

The only person who seemed to take an immediate dislike to him was the quartermaster, Threnn. She was blunt to the point of rudeness as she complained of the shortages the Inquisition were facing and demanded he should take responsibility for finding new materials since, she insisted, it was his fault they were in this position. Alistair was surprised by the hostility, unprepared to argue his case, but her attitude became clear when Leliana explained she had been a supporter of Loghain and that Anora had sent her to Haven to keep her out of the way of politics. Alistair was sympathetic to that desire at least, if not to her loyalties, and only hoped they could be civil. Perhaps when he brought back some of the requisitions she needed, she would thaw towards him; after all, it had been Kallian who had killed the treacherous Teryn, not him.

Alistair also took the time to catch up with Varric and Solas, who he hoped would be coming with him into the Hinterlands. The elf was still something of an enigma, admitting to remaining cautious since he was an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces. Alistair assured him he had nothing to fear and Solas softened further when he shared the story of his heritage and promised he would introduce him to Fiona. Although the mage had a great deal of fascinating knowledge, especially about the Fade, something about him made Alistair hold back from trusting him enough to speak about Morrigan and Kieran. He didn’t want them getting dragged into this; they should be safe enough in Orlais.

Varric was the only one who seemed concerned with how he was coping. Alistair was surprised the dwarf was willing to stick around but he told Alistair he couldn’t leave in good conscience while the Breach remained. “I’ve known heroes,” he said, “but this is going to need a miracle. Still, if anyone’s going to manage that I guess it would be you, dragon boy.” Alistair quickly changed the topic, focusing on catching up on news of their mutual friends.

He also managed to run into an argument between Lady Montilyet and some Orlesian noble about the ownership of Haven. When the man realised who he was speaking to he backed down quickly and she was able to use his embarrassment to persuade him into ‘allowing’ the Inquisition to keep using the town as its base. Alistair still made a mental note to send a record of their conversation to Morrigan, especially when their ambassador referenced difficulties Empress Celene was facing, perhaps she could use it. He was briefly tempted to mention Morrigan to the diplomat, wondering what she would know of her reputation, but decided it wasn't worth the risk.

When the scouts eventually found Mother Giselle, she refused to leave until the refugees she was protecting were taken care of given the presence of warring Templars and ‘apostates’ in the area. Alistair was glad to finally have something practical to do and they set out into the Hinterlands, killing demons, closing rifts and spreading the word about the Inquisition. 

They were forced to fight both mages and Templars, with neither group willing to listen to reason. Alistair tried to appeal to those apostates they met individually, pointing out that Solas wasn’t the only mage working for the Inquisition or else suggesting they go to Redcliffe and tell Fiona he had sent them.

Cassandra frowned at the latter argument. “I didn’t know you were that well-acquainted with Grand Enchanter Fiona,” she said accusingly.

“Warden-Constable Fiona is well-respected within Redcliffe,” he had evaded and neither Varric nor Solas betrayed his confidence by revealing their true connection.

Alistair found himself understanding better Kallian's drive to solve everyone's problems with each person who asked him to deliver a letter, or find a herb to cure their illness, or rescue their livestock. How could he tell them no, but each task seemed to multiply.

He learnt from one of the scouts they had been trying to contact Master Dennet, the old horsemaster from Redcliffe. He had fond memories of Dennet and hoped the man was well, he had always been kind to Alistair even when he was just a bastard child living on the Arl's goodwill.

In search of allies, they were directed to a keep up in the hills, named as Winterwatch Tower and Alistair vaguely remembered hearing the name along with the story of Lornan Guerrin as a child growing up in Redcliffe. It was inhabited by a small group who were practically worshipping the Breach. Once Alistair had closed the rift inside the keep, they seemed more convinced about the Inquisition and offered their assistance, so he asked them to take in any refugees they found, mindful of Mother Giselle's request.

It took another couple of days to track down Dennet but he was pleased to see Alistair and happily agreed to provide whatever aid the Inquisition needed. Alistair also managed to draw him aside privately, while the others spoke to his neighbours, and agreed to deliver a note to Teagan for him, in which he assured his uncle he was well and asked for his assistance in supporting the Inquisition.

Separately for Fiona, he explained what he could about the Fade and the Blighted lyrium. He didn't know when he would see either of them next, but perhaps they would be able to send him some advice.

When they reached Mother Giselle, her camp was under attack and, though Inquisition forces were already present, it appeared that neither the Templars nor the mages were concerned about the civilians caught in their crossfire. Worse, the attackers had managed to set fire to several boxes of supplies and were overwhelming the small number of defenders. 

Their arrival turned the tide and the Inquisition troops seemed inspired by his presence. After the enemies were defeated, Alistair was surprised to hear the cleric telling one of the soldiers to accept healing from the mages present. He would not have expected that level of understanding from a Chantry supporter and she seemed friendly enough towards him, as she explained that she did not consider magic to be a sin but rather a tool and instead felt that the real failing was pride.

Alistair wished more people would interpret the sin of the Magisters as their hubris in entering the Golden City rather than the magic which got them there. Then maybe the Chantry would be more interested in actually helping people than in showing off their own wealth and power. After all, Andraste had been a mage in the oldest stories, and one of her closest friends an elf, but Shartan was all but forgotten and her staff turned into a simple weapon.

Mother Giselle advised should go to Val Royeaux sooner rather than later, saying he had already built up too much support for them to execute him and that he only needed a few clerics to doubt the official story in order to prevent them closing ranks against him. She even agreed to return to Haven with the Inquisition forces and let Leliana know which of the clerics she thought could be reasoned with. 

Alistair and his companions had a few last matters to clear up before they headed back and they picked up some of the requisitions on their way. On his return, the others deemed the time was indeed right to face the charges of the Chantry. None of them seemed especially convinced by Alistair's argument that as a Grey Warden, the Chantry had no authority to judge him and he had to admit he didn't know enough of the Orleisan Wardens to say whose side they would take, so it with some reluctance they headed for Val Royeaux.


	6. Chapter 6

The trip from Haven to Val Royeaux took a little over a week even with the new horses from Dennet, but it seemed to fly past as Cassandra spent the time lecturing him on how to behave in front of the Chantry officials, including what to say and what not to. The Seeker was especially keen to remind him that what he called ‘wit’ would not be appropriate.

Even for all his years of travelling across Thedas, Alistair had always avoided Orlais, not wanting to give Anora any ammunition against him. Now he was here, he couldn’t deny Val Royeaux was impressive and he had to remind himself it had been designed to overawe, to show off the might of the Chantry.

They were met by one of Leliana’s scouts with the news that Templars were gathering to meet them and rumour had it they were there to protect the Chantry from the Inquisition. Cassandra seemed surprised the Templars would come to the Chantry’s defense but Alistair didn’t find it so strange - whatever the order claimed, without the Chantry they would be powerless and they couldn’t allow that to happen.

In the main square, representatives of the Chantry and Templars were indeed waiting for them. One of the Mothers denounced him as a false prophet but he had to laugh when she claimed he was motivated by greed - who was going to believe that when he had turned down not only the leadership of the Fereldan Wardens but even the crown itself? She turned to glare at him, as did Cassandra, but it only made Alistair more determined.

He stepped forward, even knowing he was making a target of himself. “You speak of treachery when you are doing nothing to deal with the threat still hanging over all of us. We came here to speak to you in peace and this is how you greet us?”

Cassandra stepped in before he could add anything more. “It’s true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late.”

“It is already too late,” the Mother said, as a band of Templars strode into the square. Although she claimed they were there to face the Inquisition, their leader ignored them as he made his way onto the stage and one of his men instead knocked the Mother to the ground with a mailed fist. 

Alistair struggled to contain himself; he might not be the most faithful son of the Chantry but there was no excuse for treating anyone like that. It played into their hands though as a demonstration of what kind of ‘safety’ the Templars actually offered.

Seeker Lucius was a symbol of the worst excesses of their order, arrogant and entitled, as he refused to speak with him or even Cassandra. When she pressed him, he turned on her, chiding her for ‘creating a heretical movement’ and for raising Alistair up as a false prophet, still missing the point of their presence here. He didn’t give them a chance to respond either before he addressed the crowd, claiming the Templars were acting righteously in ‘purging’ the mages.

It made Alistair feel sick to hear the Seeker’s twisted logic but, even as he shook his head at his rhetoric, he knew he had to focus on the immediate issue. “We all need to work together to seal the Breach,” he insisted.

Unsurprisingly the Lord Seeker rejected his request, declaring the Templar order’s independence from both the Chantry and the Inquisition. Alistair couldn’t honestly say he was upset by it, in fact he rather hoped their disdain would allow the Inquisition the freedom to act without interference, but he knew Cassandra and Leliana had been hoping they would be able to come to some agreement since the fledgling Inquisition was still woefully short of resources.

He had expected her to be upset but instead, once the man had left with his Templar escort, Cassandra commented on the Lord Seeker's unusual behaviour. Alistair knew he had only taken over the order two years ago after Lambert's death at White Spire but hadn’t realised he had initially done so as a moderate. Still, the internal politics of the Templars was hardly a high priority.

With no reason left to remain in Val Royeaux, their discussion turned to if they should head straight back to Haven, but at that moment an arrow thudded into the middle of their group. It could be a particularly incompetent assassin but the note attached to it suggested otherwise and once unwrapped from the arrow shaft, it turned out to contain an offer of assistance against an unspecified enemy in here Val Royeaux.

It was signed as a friend of Red Jenny, which for some reason sounded very familiar to Alistair. Hadn't Kallian insisted on delivering something for them, or maybe to them, in Denerim during the Blight? Well, there was no need for them to rush back to Haven even if their business with the Chantry had concluded quicker than they expected and the horses would appreciate the rest so it seemed it wouldn't hurt to follow the note's advice to search for red items in the market area and down at the docks.

The market area was busy so it was the docks they started with. It didn’t take long before they found a red handkerchief wrapped around a key. The note with it said it had been taken from a drunk swearing about the Herald but the writer had no idea where the key led. Alistair pocketed it and they started to head back.

They turned a corner and Alistair suddenly found himself face to face with his mother. His first feeling was pure relief at seeing her there but it was followed by deep concern. Few Royans would pay attention to a lone elf, nor recognise her even if they did, but surely it wasn’t safe for her to be there alone?

“If I might have a moment of your time?” she asked softly. Their eyes met and, though they couldn't greet each other as they would like in public, Alistair was certain the happiness he saw in her eyes was mirrored in his own.

"Grand Enchanter Fiona," Cassandra said, her tone sounding suspicious.

Solas looked from Alistair to Fiona and back again as though he could barely wait to be introduced but held back, for which he was grateful. This wasn’t the time or the place.

Alistair stepped forward. “You know I will always have time for you,” he said as formally as possible though the warm smile probably ruined the effect. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Cassandra frowning but he ignored her.

Fiona raised an eyebrow. "I didn’t know if that would remain true now you are the Herald of Andraste."

He felt uneasy. Getting that from her, in that tone, didn't bode well. Was she angry at him? He had written as soon as he was able. “I am the same person I have always been,” he assured her.

She gave him an assessing look. “I am glad to hear that. It was surprising to learn of your new title."

Alistair flinched; she knew full well how he had always resisted any type of command, but just as he had never run from the responsibility of dealing with the archdemon, so he couldn't run from this. He glanced around the street ensuring it was empty before pulling the glove off his hand and showing her the mark. "It was not my choice," he said. "This is our best hope of closing the Breach."

Fiona took a step forward and her hands twisted as though she had to force herself not to reach for him. She stared at the mark then met his gaze again, her expression softening. "We feared for you after the events of the Conclave." 

The 'we' was also interesting. Did she mean her and Teagan? They had never been close but had always made an effort for his sake and for Connor's. "Well, you can see I am glowing with good health," Alistair said, forcing a smile. "Just the minor matter of the hole in the sky to resolve and then home for tea and medals."

She shook her head at his attempt at humor but the corners of her mouth twitched as though she was fighting against a smile. "If you need help with the Breach, my people are the wise option, now Seeker Lucius has shown his true colours,” she told him.

He frowned. “You think the Templars are to blame for the Breach?”

“She would say that,” Cassandra interjected.

Fiona only shrugged, still giving him that piercing look. “It would make sense. He hardly seems devastated at the loss. I would not been surprised at anything the Templars would do to try and discredit us.”

Alistair nodded, that he could certainly believe and it would explain Cassandra’s earlier speculation about how the Lord Seeker had supported the Conclave and then not attended. It didn’t explain the darkspawn sense nor the tainted lyrium but he could hardly discuss that with Fiona here.

Cassandra tried to interrupt again but this time Varric stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“You can consider this a formal invitation for the Inquisition to visit us in Redcliffe,” Fiona told him.

“I will look forward to seeing you there,” Alistair said and Fiona finally smiled.

“Then au revoir, mon petit.” With that she turned to go and he had to resist the urge to ask her to stay. He would see her again soon enough.

He wasn't foolish enough to think Cassandra hadn't noticed his reactions to Fiona and knew she would have questions but hoped it could wait until they got back to Haven. Fortunately there was a distraction as he spotted a flash of red on the floor of a nearby cafe as they walked away. This time it was a report, marked with red paint, with a note on the back which described how the writer had seen some people enter a particular passage after asking about the Herald but hadn't seen them leave again.

Finally, in the upper market, they found a scrap of parchment inside a red sock, which looked like it had been torn from a larger, ornate document. The only intact sentence read “We meet at three bells to discuss how best to serve the new way.” with a scrawled addition suggesting he should go at that time.

The clues led them to a secluded courtyard just as darkness fell. There was no chance of discussion as they were attacked as soon as they entered by mercenaries, apparently guarding a door. They handled them with ease and inside they were met by a masked man, presumably Orleisan by his accent and a mage from the ball of fire he flung at them. As he ranted something about his own importance, an elven woman with blonde hair cropped short appeared from a dark corner and shot him in the throat. 

She didn’t let Alistair get a word in edgewise as she collected her arrow and congratulated him for following the notes. He was bemused when she finally turned to him directly describing him as “...rather plain,” before continuing, "The important thing is: you glow. You're the herald thingy, right?"

"That's me, the glowy guy," he said and heard Varric snort from behind him. "Can you explain what this is all about?"

The elf shrugged. "I don't know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look into it."

"Your people?" he asked. "The friends of Red Jenny?"

She looked at him with more interest. "Huh. You're not as stupid as I thought. Name's Sera. Mind out for their reinforcements. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They've got no breeches."

Alistair was briefly confused but more mercenaries were arriving and he noticed they were indeed missing their breeches. It might have been better to take their weapons but no matter. It was the sort of thing Isabela would have done and he couldn’t help feeling a little more at ease with the strange woman.

The reinforcements were easily dispatched; the elf, Sera, was still laughing about their lack of breeches and Alistair could almost feel the strength of Cassandra's glare. "So," she said. "I'd like to join."

"Join the Inquisition?" he asked. "Don't your people need you here?"

She shook her head. "It's like this. Here I'm Red Jenny, but it's not just me. There’s a woman in Montfort, one in Kirkwall, three in Starkhaven."

"Denerim?" he asked, thinking of Kallian and the little red box.

A flicker of something crossed her expression but it was gone before Alistair could figure it out. "Sure, we're all over," she said. "It's a way for the little people to band together to stick it up the nobles they hate."

Well, he couldn't fault that attitude. Though he knew a few good nobles, she was quite right in her assessment of them as a whole. Especially as an elf, since he remembered not only Fiona's stories of growing up in Orlais, but what he had seen in the Denerim alienage and Kallian's halting story of Vaughan Kendells. "So, we helped you out here?"

She shrugged. "I want to get everything back to normal. Like you?"

"I'm not sure I remember normal," he quipped. "But I want the Breach fixed. How can you help?"

She smiled with satisfaction. "You're never far from someone little. This guy thought he was someone important but he had forgotten the little people. Someone got a laugh, someone got even, someone got paid."

Although the elf wasn't impressed by him, nor the rest of his group, somehow that made him like her more and he was glad to welcome her into the Inquisition. It also had the added benefit of keeping Cassandra distracted on the way back to Haven so she had no chance to speak to him about Fiona. Still, he knew he would have to come clean at some point.

The day after they had returned safely back to Haven, it was Leliana who pulled him aside , demanding an explanation. "Cassandra told me about your meeting with Grand Enchanter Fiona in Val Royeaux."

He tried to prevaricate. "Redcliffe's the closest place I have to a home. Is it any surprise I should know her?"

Leliana gave him a keen look. "It's more than that, isn't it?"

For a moment Alistair considered lying to her but that would hardly be fair. Instead he nodded, "You want to know the truth?"

“Of course,” she said, though she frowned at his tone.

He took a deep breath, then forced the words out. "She's my mother."

Leliana actually gaped at him, for once their spymaster completely taken by surprise, but it didn't last for long. "Is she why you were at the Conclave?" she asked.

"Yes," Alistair admitted, seeing little point in hiding that particular secret now. "I was carrying a message from her to the Divine."

"And you don't think that was suspicious?" Leliana pressed him.

Alistair pushed down the instinctive spark of anger when pushed to defend Fiona; Leliana was a friend, she was surely asking out of genuine concern but she didn’t understand the hardships Fiona had suffered. "That she was unwilling to take the risk of attending in person after what had happened at White Spire?"

She shook her head. "I meant the explosion?"

Now it was his turn to stare at her in shock. "You think she would have had anything to do with it when I was there?"

She held his gaze steadily. "She wasn't exactly around while you were growing up."

The fact she would even suggest it stung, but Alistair reminded himself Leliana didn’t know everything. "You think being known as Maric's bastard with an Orlesian, elven mage would have made my life any easier?" She had lived in Ferelden, she must remember what it was like to be Orlesian there. Any of the three would have been made enough but if all were known, well, no-one would have been putting his name forward to the Landsmeet, that was for sure.

Leliana sighed but nodded, conceding his point. "Very well. Is there anything else I should know?"

Alistair considered if he should tell her about Morrigan and Kieran but he remembered how the two women had tended to rub each other up the wrong way when they were travelling together during the Blight. And it would mean having to explain Kieran's conception without telling her about the Dark Ritual. He shook his head - no, he would keep the two of them out of this as long as he could.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying something different in this chapter, playing around with POV shifts. Hopefully it works.

A meeting with all the chief advisors followed, once Cassandra had reported on what had happened in Val Royeaux. They were divided over whether it could still be worth trying to make contact with the Templars, a choice which Cullen unsurprisingly favoured, whilst Alistair was adamant that the mages were the best choice. 

He ended up kicking his heels in Haven for a few days whilst the others decided what the Inquisition should do next. Of all his new companions, Alistair found himself most often deep in conversation with Solas. Listening to the elf speak about ancient elven knowledge, in a way Fiona never had, Alistair felt connected to that side of his heritage. He was again half-tempted to tell the mage about Morrigan; he was certain she would be fascinated by the implications and she might even have stories to share from Flemeth's grimoire.

One conversation which stuck in his mind was about the nature of the Veil which divided their world from the Fade. Alistair was willing to be convinced on the idea that spirits weren't intrinsically bad, given his encounters with Wynne and Anders, though maybe the latter wasn't such a great example, but was less certain that the same could be sent for demons. Then again, the Chantry's belief that demon possession was irreversible was clearly wrong, as both Fiona and Connor's continued existence proved, so why shouldn't they be wrong about other things too?

A couple of days into the enforced break, Leliana pulled him aside privately. “What do you know about the Grey Wardens disappearing?” she asked.

Alistair frowned. “What do you mean ‘disappearing’?” He hadn't heard any suggestion of such a thing, had received no messages.

“Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished," she said. "I sent word to those in Orlais but they have also disappeared.”

That the Ferelden Wardens might be out of contact wasn’t too concerning - they were so few in number that they might take everyone on a major excursion into the Deep Roads, especially since Kallian had left, but for the Orlesian Wardens to have gone too was definitely odd.

His confusion must have shown on his face as she asked, “You didn’t know?”

Did she really think he would actually lie to her? “I’ve been in Redcliffe the past few months,” he said. “I’ve heard from Kallian, but she hasn’t been in Ferelden for a while anyway.”

Leliana nodded but she hadn't relaxed any. “I didn’t want to consider they might be involved in all this, but the timing is...curious.”

It really was, especially given what he had sensed at the site of the explosion but he couldn’t tell Leliana that. Instead he dissembled, “I’m going to be convenient for whichever group you wanted to blame, aren't I? An ex-Templar, a mage sympathiser, now a Grey Warden?”

She sighed. “The others have disregarded my concerns too, but I cannot ignore them. My agents in the Hinterlands have heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. Perhaps he knows more?”

Alistair vaguely recognised the name but didn’t think he had ever met them. Still, he needed to be able to speak to another Warden about the presence of darkspawn at the Conclave, not to mentioned the tainted red lyrium, and there was something else off that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Something had been different since the explosion at the Conclave.

They found the Warden training a small group of peasants in arms, referring to them as conscripts. From what Alistair had heard of Warden Blackwall he had thought the man would be older but he seemed competent. He was initially suspicious of their greeting but then bandits attacked and they were all needed to fight. 

It wasn’t until after the short battle when Alistair realised he was getting no Blight-sense from the man. Was he actually a Warden at all? He couldn't easily challenge him without giving away Warden secrets, something he was loathe to do. The man lied well, or had done his research, as they questioned him about the Wardens and what he was doing here, but the fact he hadn't recognised Alistair as a fellow Warden was another clue, especially when he claimed to have been in Ferelden during the Blight. A true Warden would have known they were needed to defeat the Archdemon and not just fought darkspawn alone as Blackwall wanted them to believe he had.

Since it was no secret that he was a Warden, Alistair smiled brightly at Cassandra. "Can we have a few minutes in private? Warden business..."

She glared as usual but nodded. “Of course, Herald,” she said as she backed off. Alistair turned to the bearded warrior, who suddenly looked very nervous.

***

_When the stranger greeted him by the name “Blackwall”, Thom had started to think he might be safe. Then the woman had called the other man ‘Herald’ and he had realised it was actually worse than he had thought. The Herald was probably the last person he wanted to meet; well known for not just being a Warden but one of those who had ended the last Blight. Thom could only hope the Herald had never met Warden Blackwall, that his disguise would hold._

_Once his companions were out of earshot, the Herald said, “Look, I know you're not a Warden," and Thom felt his carefully constructed world falling apart around him. "So why don't you tell me the truth and we'll see if we can work something out?"_

_He couldn't tell the other man the whole truth but it was a relief to reveal at least some of it. "You’ve got me,” he admitted. “Blackwall isn't my real name. I was... a mercenary - I did some... bad things.” It was true enough, if intentionally misleading. “Warden Blackwall found me and recruited me for the Wardens. He said I could redeem myself there.”_

_The Herald frowned at him. “So how did you end up taking on his identity?”_

_“He was killed,” Thom explained. “We were fighting darkspawn, he said I need a vial of their blood, and I was worried the Wardens would believe I'd killed him..."_

_The Herald shook his head and laughed. "That wouldn't have stopped them recruiting you, it would hardly be the first time. My mentor was conscripted after he actually killed a Warden."_

_That didn't match up with the mental image of the Grey Wardens Thom had held in his head for so long but he wasn't about to turn down this chance. "I could still become a Warden, truly?" he asked._

_"Sure." The Herald shrugged, "Not here of course, the Joining takes a bit of preparing, but I'm sure we can arrange something. In the meantime, you’ll join the Inquisition."_

_That didn’t sound like a question but nevertheless Thom wasn’t about to turn down the chance to play a part. “I’d be glad to, Herald.”_

***

Blackwall, or whatever his real name was, Alistair wasn’t going to ask, didn’t have much to pack up so he joined them on their journey back to Haven. There were more rifts to close in the Hinterlands, more Templars and mages fighting, and plenty of weird items to take back to the researchers. Alistair was tempted to head towards Redcliffe whatever the others said, but Cassandra’s disapproving look was a strong deterrent. Instead he collected pouches full of fresh herbs for Adan as well as further goods to help fill Threnn’s requisitions.

On their return, Leliana was disappointed that Blackwall should know nothing about the disappearance of the Grey Wardens and Alistair decided not to tell her the truth about the man. Blackwall himself suggested he had heard of several abandoned Grey Wardens camps they could search, which seemed to appease her a little.

Leliana also reminded Alistair that, whilst in Val Royeaux, he had received an invitation from First Enchanter Vivienne of Montsimmard to attend a salon. Alistair had no time for politics, and he had previously heard Fiona state her distaste for the enchanter and her ilk but Leliana believed it would be useful to the Inquisition to have her on their side and so he found himself at her salon.

Alistair was uncomfortable from the start; formal parties had never been his thing and he was surrounded by Orlesian nobles in their ubiquitous masks. The looks he received on being announced reminded him of Arlessa Isolde and how she had always looked at him like something the cat had dragged in.

The first person who greeted him was wearing a mask uncomfortably similar to the one worn by the noble Sera had killed in Val Royeaux, alongside a woman in a truly bizarre ruff. They seemed keen to drag Alistair into their gossip, particularly about the Duke, Bastien de Ghislain, in whose home this salon was being held. He hadn’t heard of the man before and so hadn’t realised he was related to the Grand Duke, something Morrigan would no doubt have mocked him for.

They were interrupted by the arrival of another noble, who seemed determined to cause offense, slandering both the name of the Inquisition and its leaders. “Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power,” the man said.

Alistair forced himself to bite his tongue. He supposed that was aimed at him, but it seemed misjudged. He could have been a king if he’d wanted that, or did this Orlesian imagine that he regretted his decision to refuse the Fereldan throne? It appeared his silence infuriated the noble more as he continued. “We know what your ‘Inquisition’ truly is. If you were a man of honour, you’d step outside and answer the charges.”

It was absurd to think this peacock really believed he could beat Alistair in a duel, but he must have been serious as he was already reaching for his weapon when he was suddenly turned to ice. Alistair turned to find a woman coming down the stairs, who was surely the Enchanter who had invited him here. She was an attractive dark-skinned woman but, with Fiona’s description in mind, her attitude repelled him.

***

_Freezing the Marquis made for an impressive entrance and Vivienne ignored the slight frown in which crossed the Herald's face as she offered him the decision on Alphonse’s fate. She should have been glad to have him defer to her judgment but she found herself slightly disappointed at his refusal to make a choice._

_There was something about him, beyond the faint thrum of magic from his gloved hand which clearly covered the mark itself, but Vivienne couldn't put her finger on it. Still, she refused to let herself be distracted from her primary goal. He didn’t seem responsive to her light flirtation and instead she cut to the chase, offering her services to the Inquisition as leader of the last loyal mages._

_He twitched and she forced herself to remain calm. Rumour had it he had been a Templar before becoming a Warden - some distrust of mages was to be expected, or perhaps it was the Chantry he was disillusioned with... Still, he was clearly an experienced warrior who surely understood the need for order and he would come to see how she would make a better role model for any mages within the Inquisition than the leaders of the rebels._

_The Herald was polite enough, as he asked her what she could bring to the Inquisition. Vivienne was keen to demonstrate her value, but his obvious grimace when she spoke of her familiarity with the Orlesian court showed her she had misstepped and only her long experience with The Game prevented her annoyance reaching her face. Of course, she wasn't just contending with the usual Fereldan disdain for civilisation but speaking to the bastard son of the king who had ended Orlesian rule - Maric the Saviour, the Fereldans called him, as though mud and dogs and their crude politics were an improvement. The Herald was probably cheering the thought of a civil war in Orlais._

_He stayed though, despite her error, and she resisted the urge to smile in triumph when he agreed she should join the Inquisition, since his tone was so clearly reluctant. Still, she would accept the challenge to prove he had made the right decision and help guide the restoration of the Circle._

***

Alistair returned to Haven, fortunately not accompanied by First Enchanter Vivienne, who apparently needed more time to pack up her household. 

A persistent messenger brought word of Tevinter mercenaries on the Storm Coast. The messenger’s commander, with the unusual name of Iron Bull was offering the information free of charge but invited the Inquisition to visit and see his Chargers in action. Apparently he wanted to work for the Inquisition, which struck Alistair as a little odd, but then who knew with mercenaries? They often turned out to be the most loyal friends.

Leliana reminded him she had sent scouts to the Storm Coast following up rumours of a group of Grey Wardens seen travelling there. Her last report was that the scouts had set up a camp so it should be simple enough for him to join them there then head onwards to meet the Chargers and, if there were Wardens in the area he could kill two birds with one stone.

When they arrived it was raining and it barely stopped the entire time they were there; it seemed the coast was aptly named. Scout Harding met them, concerned about a group of bandits operating in the area and Alistair promised he would do his best to rout out the bandits and find her missing scouts.

They found the Chargers fighting a group far too well armed to be bandits, presumably the mercenaries their messenger had described, they were as good as he had claimed, working together like only the best companies could. Their commander turned out to be a one-eyed Qunari with large horns. Even knowing most Qunari did have horns it was still strange after knowing only Sten for so long or, well, he should call him the Arishok now, shouldn't he?

They had never been close, it didn't seem that Sten had let anyone close, not even Kallian, but when they had met last they had respected each other and so Alistair hoped this Qunari would be reasonable. If he lived outside the Qun enough to run a mercenary company, surely he couldn't be that hostile.

***

_Hissrath watched the Herald with interest. His reports had had plenty to say about the man who had killed the last archdemon and survived, who was one of the few bas to visit Par Vollen, who had even fought with the Arishok - both alongside and against. He was clearly a capable fighter, skilled with sword and shield, but once the battle was over, he was surprised to see how young the man was._

_He sent Krem away to make sure all the Vints were definitely dead and to give him a chance to speak to the Herald privately. The Ben-Hassrath wanted an agent close to someone like him; with the potential to wreck change and the Chargers were ideally placed to let him do that, but the rest of them didn’t need to be involved._

_He gave the man his usual sales pitch but focused on his personal skills, if he wanted to get close, he needed to prove he could hold his own. “Demons, dragons, whatever,” he boasted. “The bigger the better.”_

_The Herald nodded. “That could come in useful. I’ve fought a dragon or two myself. It wasn’t fun.”_

_The bas had no appreciation for the finer things, who didn’t get a little excited fighting a dragon? Still, he had got him so far, now came the hard part but Hissrath had decided it was worth being honest with the Herald, especially since he was already familiar with the Qunari. “Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?” he asked._

_The Herald frowned at him. “The Qunari’s spies?” He looked him up and down and then shrugged. “I wouldn’t have thought you were the type but clearly it works for you.”_

_That was easier than he had expected. “I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening.” The Herald still didn’t look especially upset so he continued onto the selling point. “But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”_

_He could see the doubt in the Herald's eyes. "You're planning on playing us off against each other?"_

_He shook his head. "Whatever happened at that Conclave was bad, someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I'm on your side."_

_"Does that means I get to see the reports you send to the Ariqun too?" the Herald asked speculatively._

_Hissrath laughed. He would have to remember not to underestimate this one, he knew too much to be easily fooled. "If I say yes, will that convince you?"_

_"Why not?" he said. "I just hope Josephine doesn't expect me to pay for you myself."_

***

The Iron Bull arranged for his Chargers to pack up and head to Haven under Cassandra's watchful eye, whilst he helped out them clear out the bandits in the area. He came in very useful when they ran into a nest of dragonlings - they might not have been that tough individually but as a group they were fairly dangerous. More significantly, their very presence suggested there was at least one adult dragon somewhere in the area.

Fortunately they didn’t encounter it, though they did find a couple more rifts for Alistair to close. When they finally returned to Haven, he was ready for a rest, which was obviously why the war council had decided the time had now come to allow him to head to Redcliffe. Still, at least he would get to have a break there with his family.


	8. Chapter 8

Alistair wished Leliana could join them since she knew Redcliffe but he understood she had other duties. He took Solas with them instead, since he had promised to introduce the elf to Fiona, and Blackwall in case they could manage to sort out his Joining, Fiona should be able to get the lyrium needed and wouldn’t ask any awkward questions. Cassandra also insisted on coming along, presumably since she still didn’t entirely trust him left to his own devices.

They ran into a group of bandits on the road and, though they were swiftly dealt with, there was something odd about them. They were too organised to be true bandits and Alistair was sure he’d seen the symbol on their banner somewhere before. Varric found a note in their campsite instructing them to turn people away from the East Road and talking about the ‘opportunity’ they had found. It sounded as though they were talking about mining lyrium and Alistair feared they had found more of the tainted red crystals but there was nothing they could do about it just now.

They also came across another rift, not far from the outskirts of the village, which Alistair closed as quickly as he could. He hated the thought of the effects of the Breach reaching this far, threatening his family. The rift right outside the walls was worse though, especially as it seemed to warp the very time around it, but it was when they reached Redcliffe itself that things started to become really weird. Despite Fiona's earlier invitation, Leliana's scout advised no-one was expecting them.

A mage who introduced himself as Lysas told them, "Magister Alexius is in charge now.” Alistair didn't like the sound of that, what was a Tevinter Magister doing in Redcliffe? When Lysas suggested, “You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime," he was both relieved she was well and concerned about what was happening. 

Still, he was willing to wait to hear Fiona's explanation and let himself be directed to the Gull and Lantern to meet her there. He would have preferred to hold the meeting in the castle and was surprised Teagan hadn't at least sent someone to greet him. Even more worryingly, many of the villagers, people Alistair had known for years, turned away from him, refusing to meet his gaze.

They turned a corner and Alistair found himself face to face with Connor, who looked relieved to see him. "You came, thank the Maker! Maybe you can sort this mess out. They've all gone mad!"

Cassandra looked stormy as she stepped forward but Alistair blocked Connor from her view, wrapping an arm around his cousin's shoulders. "Why don't you tell me all about it?"

Connor frowned up at him. "Didn't you get the message? The Magister has taken over; he threw Uncle Teagan out into the street. He’s signed us into servitude."

That didn’t sound right at all. "Tell me about the magister?" Alistair asked, seeing how Cassandra had tensed, though he would have rather asked about Teagan's well-being, or Fiona's.

Sounding close to tears, Connor explained as they walked towards the tavern. “Please, find a way to talk sense into Fiona,” he pleaded. “You’re the only one who can get through to her.”

Again Cassandra looked as though she wanted to demand more information but Alistair refused to meet her eyes. Connor wouldn't enter the inn, not wanting to be present when the Magister arrived and risk drawing attention to his connection to Alistair nor Fiona.

When Fiona entered the room, Alistair could instantly tell something was wrong. Unlike when he had seen her in Val Royeaux, not even a month ago, his mother now looked pale and harried.

Her expression lit up briefly when she saw him but it quickly shifted into concern. "What brings you to Redcliffe, Herald?" she asked, glancing around at the other patrons in the inn. "You shouldn't have come," she continued in a lower tone. "It's too dangerous for you to be here."

Alistair frowned in confusion. "You invited me, when we met in Val Royeaux."

"I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave," she said, sounding bewildered.

He blinked. That couldn't be true, he had seen her. "I would swear, it was you." He knew her too well to be mistaken about something like that.

Alistair stepped forward, holding out his hands but she flinched back. "Whoever or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed." There was a noticeable tremor in her voice as she told him, "The free mages have already... pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium."

"An alliance with Tevinter?!" Cassandra asked, the distaste evident in her tone but Alistair wasn't listening, just watching Fiona's face. He felt as though he was sharing her heartbreak. After her beginnings, becoming essentially a slave again wasn't a decision she would have made lightly.

"As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you," she said. If she had seemed less affected, Alistair might have thought her possessed or enthralled by a demon. Instead, and given the presence of Tevinters, he had to assume blood magic. Could he summon the force of will to cleanse her, knowing it would cause her pain even if it worked?

The Magister chose that point to make his entrance and Alistair could hear the fear in Fiona's voice as she introduced him as Gereon Alexius. He was full of bluster, claiming Templars had attacked immediately after the Conclave and it had been fortunate he was there.

Fiona's emphasis on how 'timely' his intervention had been suggested she thought it suspicious too. Had the Magister arranged for them to be attacked just so he could swoop in and rescue them?

He asked instead about Teagan and Alexius insisted the Arl had left the village willingly. Cassandra objected loudly but Alistair kept quiet, he supposed the Tevinter didn't know about his connections to Redcliffe and he would like to keep it that way.

Keeping an eye on Fiona's expression and letting her guide him, Alistair told the Magister he needed mages to seal the Breach and unwillingly sat down with him to negotiate. Alexius introduced his son Felix before sending him off for a scribe and, though something seemed off with the young man, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. 

The Magister's words made him sound impressed with their 'ambitious' plan to close the Breach but the tone of his voice was far from encouraging and he didn't seem to share their urgency.

On his return, the younger Tevinter stumbled into Alistair's side and he felt the buzzing presence of darkspawn. He quickly realised it must come from the young man, who it was now evident was suffering a fairly advanced case of Blight sickness.

"Felix!" the Magister exclaimed, hurrying to his son's side. 

Alistair took advantage of his distraction to share a look with Fiona, who had clearly noticed it too, and he wondered how a Magister's son had come into contact with darkspawn. Still that was a thought for another day, especially as he felt the man slip something into his pocket as he let his father pull him away.

Magister Alexius and his son made their excuses and left, saying they would send for the Inquisition when they were ready to continue their discussions. Though the Magister called for Fiona to join him, she hung behind for a moment, "It might be safer if you did not return." The expression behind her eyes was that of a trapped animal and Alistair longed to comfort her but he supposed there were people watching them who would report back to the Magister and he didn't want her to be harmed.

"You could come back to Haven with us," he suggested.

She shook her head. "You know I cannot. I am responsible for these people - I must stay to see this through."

Once she had left he checked his pocket to see what Felix had left. He found a short note which read simply, "Come to the Chantry. You are in danger."

Cassandra wanted to leave Redcliffe immediately but he persuaded her to stay and at least check it out. Even if it was a trap, they needed more information.

As they headed to the Chantry, they met actual hostility for the first time. Another mage, who he recalled was named Linnea, spat, "We don't need your kind here,” at them. “Your Inquisition's just Templars by another name."

Alistair shook his head, didn't she know him better than that? "The Inquisition's different," he said.

Linnea only scoffed and turned away. Lysas re-joined them, not asking where they were headed. "Were you really looking to ally with us?" he asked.

"Of course." Alistair frowned, "Why wouldn't I?"

The mage looked uncomfortable. "When they said you were the Herald, many of us hoped it would mean a new chance at peace, but it's been weeks and we’d heard nothing."

Alistair felt guilty, he knew he should have come sooner, not listened to Cassandra and Leliana telling him they weren't ready to negotiate. "I sent word," he said. "And I truly believed I had seen Fiona in Val Royeaux not even a month ago."

Lysas looked intrigued at that, then shrugged. "Well, I guess it's too late now."

"We'll see about that," Alistair said firmly. They paused outside the Chantry and he could feel the prickly sensation which heralded the presence of another rift. Was it actually inside the Chantry itself? He shared a look with Cassandra and, hefting his sword, told Lysas to keep people away until he returned.

Pushing open the door, they found a mage fighting off demons. He wasn’t dressed like any of the other free mages, didn’t look like an apostate at all, and his dusky skin tone suggested he was a Tevinter. He seemed to be holding his own but looked up as they entered. Good, you’re finally here," he said, his accent confirming Alistair’s suspicion. "Now help me close this, would you?"

They didn’t have time to question the stranger before another wave of shades poured out of the rift. Again, moving around it was strange, sometimes everything around him seemed to be moving too quickly, other times too slowly, but it didn't take too long before the demons were defeated and Alistair held up his hand to close the rift.

The mage looked around curiously as the rift vanished. “Fascinating,” he said. “How does that work exactly?”

Alistair shrugged, catching Solas’ eyes across the room. “Ah, Fade resonance something something conflicting vibrations. That's right, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Solas gave a half smile. "It is impressive how quickly you have picked up Fade theory."

The newcomer raised his eyebrows. “And here I thought you just wriggled your fingers and hoped for the best.”

“That too,” Alistair agreed. So far the other man seemed more friendly than the Magister but it could still be a trick. “So, you know who I am,” he said. “Who are you exactly?”

The mage gave a small bow. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous."

Alistair hadn’t spent long in Tevinter, though it had been more than long enough, but he could recognise that even though the mage didn’t give a title he must be one of their nobles. Did he recognise the house name, he wasn’t quite sure. Alistair almost wished he had brought Varric along, his connections might have proved useful.

Cassandra made her suspicions clear but the man didn’t seem fazed by her. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor,” he admitted, “so my assistance should be valuable.”

No false modesty there but that was fine, they didn’t have the time to waste. “What about Felix?” he asked. If this Tevinter knew the father, he must also know the son.

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Dorian assured him.

Well, either it was a very inept trap or there was a lot more going on here. “Were you responsible for the note then?” Alistair asked.

“I was,” he said. “I believe I can be of some assistance.”

“Go on,” Alistair replied before Cassandra could say anything, though he could feel the weight of her glare.

“Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you.”

Alistair couldn’t help but flinch. Even knowing Alexius didn’t truly have Fiona’s allegiance didn’t make her alliance with him any easier to bear and it was clear she hadn’t been entirely happy with it herself. “Yes, let’s start there,” he said, unable to keep his tone even. “Do you know how he managed that.”

“To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself,” the mage declared.

Alistair found himself speechless, he had thought Morrigan’s mirror incredible but had never heard of travelling through time. It made a strange kind of sense though, especially Fiona’s comment on the Magister’s ‘timely’ arrival.

Fortunately Solas stepped up. “That is fascinating, if true,” he interjected, “and almost certainly dangerous.”

“Very,” Dorian agreed. “You saw how the rift you closed here twisted time around itself? Soon there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further away from Redcliffe.”

Alistair hated the thought of something like this in Redcliffe at all, his stomach twisting like it had when they’d arrived during the Blight and found it overrun with walking corpses. What curse were they under things like this kept happening to him and his family?

Dorian continued, apparently oblivious to the effect his words were having. "The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable. It is unravelling the world."

Solas looked intrigued. “And how is it you know so much about this?” he asked.

"I helped develop this magic," Dorian explained. "What I don't understand is why he's doing all this just to gain a few hundreds lackeys."

"He didn't do it for them," came a new voice and Alistair turned to see Alexius' son, Felix, shutting the door of the Chantry behind him.

"Took you look enough," Dorian said but he sounded relieved.

Felix didn’t waste time on greetings, diving straight into a explanation, "My father's joined a cult, Tevinter supremacists, they call themselves Venatori." He turned to face Alistair directly, "And he's done it to get to you."

"So why are you working against him?" Alistair asked. What had Fiona got herself caught up in?

"What he's doing - cults, time magic - it has to be stopped," Felix said.

"It would also be nice if he didn't rip a hole in time," Dorian added.

"What does he want me for?" Alistair asked, but he was already thinking of Maric imprisoned in Tevinter and the Magrallen they had destroyed.

"They're obsessed with you," Felix said. "And I don't know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

"You can close the rifts," Dorian suggested. "Maybe they see you as a threat?"

Alistair could think of plenty of reasons a Tevinter cult might want hold of him, or his family, and few of them were good. He swore then and there they would never succeed.

Felix couldn’t stay any longer before he would be missed but apparently no-one yet knew of Dorian’s presence so they determined he would join them in Haven.

"Oh, and Felix,” he said, “try not to get yourself killed."

"There are worse things than dying, Dorian," Felix said to his back. Alistair wondered if he realised he was tainted, did he hear the hum of darkspawn every time he slept.

Reluctantly, Alistair agreed to return to Haven to discuss the matter further, though he already knew what he intended to do. 

The day after their return, Alistair received a formal invitation from Alexius to meet him in Redcliffe Castle, alone, to negotiate and he was called into the war room so they could discuss their options.

"We don't have the manpower to take the castle," Cullen said. "Either we find another way in or give up this foolishness and go to the Templars."

Alistair was afraid for Fiona, and so he couldn’t control his temper. "I'm not going to the Templars," he said.

For once it seemed Josephine and Cassandra were in agreement with him, at the very least that they couldn't allow a Tevinter Magister to build a powerbase on the Inquisition's doorstep.

"Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden, it has withstood hundreds of assaults," Cullen argued. "If you go in there, you'll die and we'll lose our only means of closing these rifts."

How good to know he was valued for himself but Alistair had already accepted that. He gritted his teeth, "You needn't lecture me on my own home. As it happens there is a secret passageway into the castle."

"Through the windmill," Leliana said. "I remember. It's too narrow for our troops but I could send agents through."

"Too risky," Cullen said. "Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the Magister."

"Not if he's distracted," Alistair said.

Josephine nodded. "Send the envoy they want and they won't look any further."

"Focus their attention on the Herald while we take out the Tevinters," Cullen heaved a sigh. "It's risky but it could work."

The door burst open and the strange mage from before, Dorian, entered following by an Inquisition soldier. It was quickly apparent he'd been listening at the door when he started with, "Fortunately you'll have help."

The soldier gave Cullen a long-suffering look but he waved him away, allowing the Tevinter to continue.

"Your spies will never get past Alexius' magic without my help," Dorian said. "So if you're going, I'm coming along."

All the advisors looked at Alistair and for once he was willing to take charge. His family came first and he wouldn't let some power-hungry magister hurt them. "Welcome along," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the eagle-eyed amongst you may have noticed there is now a fixed number of chapters for this story, rather than being open-ended. This is not my final answer (the story is still very much in progress) but my current best guess - I just wanted a target to aim for. Expect this number to go up, not down.


	9. Chapter 9

As much as Alistair hated standing at the castle's gate like a supplicant, it would let Alexius feel he had the advantage. He demanded the Magister's guard announce them as an advisor came out to meet them. 

"The Magister's invitation was for Warden Theirin alone,” he said. “The others must wait here."

“If they stay, then so do I,” Alistair replied. 

The Venatori exchanged a glance but apparently it wasn’t worth arguing over and they were led into the main hall, the guards from the gate following them. The Magister was seated on a large seat set up on the dias like a throne and Fiona was there too, at the bottom of the steps.

Alexius played the magnanimous ruler as he greeted Alistair with an expansive, “My friend.” He seemed less happy to see his companions but continued, “I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties.”

From the pinched look on Fiona’s face, ‘all parties’ didn’t actually include the mages whose services were being bartered. “Are we mages to have no say in deciding our fate?” she asked

Alexius looked down at her, "Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives." 

Someone who didn't know Fiona might not have seen the despair in her eyes but Alistair did. He pressed for her inclusion in their talks but when Alexius bowed to his demands it left him suspicious. Did the Magister actually intend to carry out negotiations at all? Well, he had miscalculated if he thought Fiona’s presence would be negligible, since they were very familiar with each other’s fighting styles.

Alexius returned to his throne without offering any of them a seat. "The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach,” he said, “and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?"

Hoping to shake his smug expression, Alistair asked, “What can we do for you that the Venatori can’t?”

Alexius narrowed his eyes. “Now, where could you have heard that name?”

Alistair hesitated over whether to admit to his sources when Felix stepped forward. “I told him”

Alexius looked upset. "Felix, what have you done?"

He sounded disappointed but Alistair still trIed reasoning with him, “Your son is just concerned about you.”

“So speaks the thief," spat Alexius, turning on him suddenly. "You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark - a gift you don’t even understand - and think you’re in control? You're nothing but a mistake."

Alistair was stunned; by calling the castle ‘his’ stronghold Alexius showed he had no idea but what was that about being a thief and his ‘stolen’ mark? What exactly had he interrupted? “What were your intentions for the Conclave?” he asked.

In the best traditions of villainy, Alexius gestured expansively, his eyes wild. “It was to be a triumphant moment for the Elder One, for this world!”

Felix shook his head. “Father, listen to yourself. Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds like exactly the sort of villainous cliche everyone expects us to be.” Dorian said, making a grand entrance.

Alexius looked surprised but recovered quickly. "I gave you a chance to be a part of this,” he said. “You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."

“The Elder One?” Alistair asked.

The Magister smiled enigmatically. “Soon he will become a god. He will make the world bow to mages once more.”

Fiona objected and, as Dorian tried to get through to Alexius, out of the corner of his eye, Alistair saw one of the Venatori guards slump and get dragged back. If Dorian's arrival hadn't been evidence enough, Leliana and her scouts were clearly getting in place. They only needed to stall him a little longer.

“Stop it, Father," Felix pleaded. "Give up the Venatori. Let the Southern mages fight the Breach and let’s go home.”

Alexius refused, “It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you!”

Was that the same way the Architect had offered to save Kallian? It seemed another point in favour of the Elder One being an intelligent darkspawn, a former student of the Architect perhaps.

Felix seemed confused, but Alexius tried to assure him. "There is a way. If I undo the mistake at the Temple…”

Alistair wasn't certain if the mistake was his appearance or however he had ended up with the mark but he didn't think he was going to like whatever Alexius had planned to undo it.

“I’m going to die," Felix said. "You need to accept that.”

Alexius shook his head. “Seize them Venatori! The Elder One demands this man’s life!”

Leliana's scouts took that as their cue and the remaining Venatori guards slumped to the floor, most without even having the opportunity to reach for their weapons.

“It seems you have no power here, Alexius,” Alistair said. He had been prepared to offer a deal but Alexius gave him no chance.

“You... are a mistake!," he declared venomously, as he called green magic to his hand. "You should never have existed!”

Those words, heard before in a different context, stung but before Alistair could say or do anything, Dorian countered with his own magic. Rather than striking them, the spell energy opened a swirling portal and they were sucked in, Fiona's broken cry echoing behind them.

***

  
The portal flared and Dorian found himself alone with the Herald in a small, dark cell. The Herald swore, drawing the attention of two Venatori but, between the warrior's glowing longsword and Dorian's magic, they were able to make short work of the guards.

The Herald shook his head. "Another day, another weird magical experience, how did Alexius manage to send us down here from the hall?"

Maybe he did have experiences like this all the time, Dorian thought, it would explain a lot. "How do you know we're still in Redcliffe Castle?" he asked curiously.

"I grew up here," the Herald said. "Well, not in these cells, mostly in the stables if I'm honest, but I've been down here before. The secret passage to the windmill is that way, the steps up to the main castle over there."

Dorian nodded thoughtfully, looking around. As fascinating as the Herald's previous adventures no doubt were, the stories would have to wait, while he worked out what Alexius had done. It seemed farfetched but he still told the Herald, "I believe he has actually displaced us in time..."

"I certainly don't remember red lyrium growing from the walls last time I was here," he replied, "and I think I would have noticed."

"Well, wherever and whenever we are it bears investigating," Dorian said. "Do lead the way." The Herald hefted his shield and strode off. "I take it you have a destination in mind?" Dorian asked.

"I want to check the rest of the cells," the Herald said, without slowing down. "In my experience crazed tyrants love to take prisoners, and we need all the allies we can find."

Dorian frowned. He wasn't sure he even wanted to ask how you learnt something like that. Still, it quickly turned out he wasn't wrong when they came across the Herald's dwarven friend, humming to himself.

The dwarf looked startled by their approach. "Andraste's sacred knickers, you're alive?"

The Herald seemed overwhelmed; it was one thing to be told they'd traveled in time but quite another to have evidence of it, so Dorian stepped up with the explanation.

The dwarf shook his head on hearing their story. "Everything that happens to you is weird."

"Tell me about it," the Herald said heavily. "If it was one of your stories, noone would believe it."

The dwarf forced a laugh. "All my stories are true. Even the ones that aren't." He pulled himself to his feet. "So, what are you doing here? Or did you come back just to trade quips with me?"

The Herald's smile looked genuine but Dorian interrupted, "We get to Alexius, and I just might be able to send us back to our own time. Simple, really."

"That... may not be as easy as you think," the dwarf replied and Dorian forced himself not to frown. Of course it wouldn't, didn't he recognise basic hyperbole? But the dwarf hadn't finished. "Alexius is just a servant. His 'Elder One' assassinated the Empress and led a demon army in a huge invasion of the south."

Alright, that was worse than he was expecting. Kaffas, what was Alexius playing at, and where had he even got a demon army from?

"The Elder One rules everything," the dwarf continued. "What's left of it, anyway. Alexius... is really not the one you want to worry about."

The Herald's expression had changed as the dwarf spoke; horror following shock, but now his jaw was set stubbornly. "I'll stop him anyway. Make sure none of this ever happens, I promise you that."

"I'm pretty sure you're crazy," the dwarf shook his head. "Or I'm crazy. Either way, it's a nice thought. You want to take on Alexius, I'm in."

The Herald looked around. "If Alexius is following the usual procedure, we'll probably find Bianca in one of these chests or barrels," he said, kneeling before the nearest one to start searching.

"Bianca?" Dorian asked. Venhedis, surely they were not expecting to find a woman's remains so casually disposed of. No, they both looked too calm for that.

"Varric's crossbow," the Herald elaborated, looking up. "You'll know it when you see it."

"That's no way to speak of a lady," Varric replied, but it had the sound of a reflexive response rather than an actual objection.

Shaking his head, the Herald moved onto the next chest. "You can help too, you know," he said. "Just try not to touch the red lyrium."

"It's a bit late for that," Varric said and Dorian looked him over; out of the confines of the cell, it was obvious the red flickers in his eyes weren't just reflections and the reverberations when he spoke more than just an echo.

"I'm sorry," the Herald said and a look Dorian couldn't interpret passed between them. "But Dorian really, don't touch it. I don't want to get back to our own time and find out you've been infected."

"What about you?" Dorian couldn't help asking, not that he had any intention of touching the stuff after seeing what it had done to Varric.

"Lyrium has never appealed to me," he said, with something of a wry smile.

A warning look from the dwarf stopped Dorian questioning further and they eventually found Varric's crossbow wrapped in a sack in the stairwell. The dwarf looked as though he had been reunited with a long lost friend. "Ah Bianca, we're going to have such good times again," he said.

On the lowest floor they also found the Herald's other companion, the bearded human warrior. Dorian vaguely remembered being told he was a Grey Warden, like the Herald.

Blackwall seemed just as shocked to see them as Varric had been and it took some effort to convince him they weren't either dead or figments of his imagination but, once persuaded, he was ready for "one last battle," assuring the Herald, "If we make Alexius pay for his crimes, that's enough for me." He did also have an interesting tidbit of information, from overhearing his guards it seemed Alexius never left the throne room, which would make him easy to find at least.

They finished searching the cells, finding Blackwall's sword and shield as well as armour for him and Varric then made their way to the central room. The Herald looked between the still raised drawbridge and the second corridor. "Let's see what we can find before they become aware of our presence."

What they found was horrific, but Dorian found the Herald's reaction particularly telling. As soon as they caught sight of the elven woman half-encased in red lyrium, before Dorian had even recognised her as Grand Enchanter Fiona, the Herald gave a pained cry and rushed towards her.

She looked up and relief was starkly painted across her face as she said, "Alistair, emma len, you're alive... how? I saw you... disappear." She sounded anguished and the Herald looked distraught at her condition though Dorian hadn't even realised they knew each other.

The Herald forced his way into the cell asking, "What happened?" as he took her hand.

"Red lyrium," she said, somewhat obviously in Dorian's opinion, but it seemed to mean more to the Herald. Both of them looked at him and the others briefly then started have a private conversation, pitched too low for them to listen in.

Dorian frowned. He wasn't unfamiliar with sentiment, it was why he'd come after Felix after all, but they had a job to do and it was clear the Grand Enchanter wouldn't be accompanying them. He cleared his throat and, when they looked up, asked, "Can you tell us the date, it's very important?" Neither Varric nor Blackwall had been able to give him a straight answer.

She looked momentarily confused and glanced at the Herald, before answering, "Harvestmere, 9.42 Dragon."

"9.42?" That wasn't as bad as he'd feared but still... "Then we've missed an entire year."

The Herald turned his attention back to the woman, who seemed unhappy at whatever he was telling her, shaking her head. Dorian noted he still hadn't let go off her free hand.

He forced himself to ignore the obvious show of emotion. "Our only hope is to find the amulet Alexius used to send us here," he said, proud at how level his tone sounded. "If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left."

"Good," she said firmly, meeting his eyes over the Herald's shoulder.

For a moment he was reminded of someone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Nonetheless, he felt the need to qualify his statement. "Maybe. It might also turn us to paste."

Again, the emotion which flickered across her face looked familiar. Almost... the way Alexius had looked at Felix since his illness? But that made no sense.

"You have to try," she said, then freed her hand from the Herald's. "Your friend, Leliana, she is here. Find her. Before the Elder One learns you're here."

Leliana? The Inquisition’s red-headed Spymaster? Dorian hadn't observed enough to say she and the Herald were friends, so it was interesting the Grand Enchanter should call them such. He didn't get the chance to question any further though as the Herald stepped back and drew his belt knife.

"Yes," Grand Enchanter Fiona said, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. "Ar lath ma."

Too late Dorian realised what the Herald intended before he drew the knife across the elven woman's throat. He cried out but it was clear the blow was fatal. As her body slumped, the Herald turned away, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth. Dorian might not truly understand what had happened but he had enough discretion not to ask questions.

They were nearly back at the central room when they heard the drawbridge lowering and shared grim glances. The guards couldn't be allowed to raise the alarm and alert Alexius to their presence. They rushed up the last steps, Dorian and Varric both targeting the Venatori nearest the drawbridge, whilst the two warriors circled round to block the exit. The fight was short and brutal, knowing they needed to take their foes down quickly before the fighting was heard.

With the Venatori dead, they moved onward cautiously since they didn’t know how many guards were in the castle. The Herald's expression was stony, his jaw set in determination, with no trace of the jocular personality Dorian had just been starting to grow accustomed to.

There was a distant cry and they all stopped to listen. The scream came again, clearly a woman's voice, and the Herald headed for the nearest stairs. "Herald... Alistair, wait," Varric called, but he didn't stop.

"What if it's Leliana?" he asked. None of them could argue with that, the Inquisition's Spymaster was too valuable to leave in enemy hands a moment longer than necessary and, well, Dorian couldn't imagine leaving a friend to suffer.

They struggled to catch up as the Herald took the stairs two at a time. He paused at the first landing so when he reached the top Varric was only a couple of paces behind. They burst into the room, sounds of fighting quickly following, but when Dorian was finally in a position to help, he saw the Venatori spellbinder was already outmatched and his two guards down.

He turned his attention to the victim, a human woman in Chantry robes. Dorian could tell they were too late to save her and would have been however quickly they had come to her aid.

With the spellbinder dead, the Herald looked over at Dorian. "Is she?"

"Dead, but not your Spymaster," he replied, adding, "I'm impressed you got to him before could cast - you must have truly caught him by surprise."

"He tried," the Herald said, his smile full of teeth. "But I trained as a Templar before I became a Warden - I know a few tricks myself."

Dorian felt a cold chill. He had heard of the southern Templars' ability to suppress magic but had never seen the evidence himself. Now he wondered if he would get it demonstrated first hand.

Something of his trepidation most have shown on his face as the Herald's expression softened slightly. "Don't worry, unlike our illustrious commander, I don't enjoy seeing mages suffering," he said. "I save it for darkspawn and those who attack me."

Varric winced. "Let up on Curly, won't you. It wasn't easy to stand up to Meredith and he did the right thing in the end."

"Better late than never, I'll admit."

The dwarf shook his head but didn't push further. Dorian was reminded the rumours he'd heard about Commander Rutherford even in Tevinter; many escapees from Kirkwall's Circle of Magi ended up as indentured servants used by their masters to aid their arguments against the barbaric Southern Chantry.

They didn't stay in the torture chamber long and a quick search around only found another such chamber with two more bodies, neither of which were Leliana. Now prepared, they proceeded forward more cautiously and, as they reached the next door, heard a male voice demanding, "Tell me how did the Warden learn of the sacrifice at the Temple? Speak!"

The voice which replied, "Never," was clearly a woman’s, as was the scream of pain which followed.

The door was locked and the Herald looked for a moment as though he were going to bash it open before stepping aside to let Varric use his lock picks. As the dwarf worked they heard the man saying, “There's no use to this defiance, little bird. There's no-one left for you to protect.”

“You're wasting your breath,” came the response and in the ragged voice were hints of an Orlesian accent.

There was another scream and Dorian could see the Herald’s knuckles were white as they clenched around his sword hilt. “Hurry up, Varric.”

“I'm going as fast as I can.”

“Talk! The Elder One demands answers!” There was a pause but no cry of pain. Had they been heard? Dorian held his breath. The sound of Varric’s tools scraping in the lock seemed very loud. “You will break,” the man continued.

“I will die first,” the woman declared, as the door finally swung open.

Dorian saw the woman suspended from her wrists, stripped to her smallclothes. If it weren't for her distinctive hair, he would never have recognised her as the Inquisition’s Spymaster.

The Herald made an inarticulate noise, as the woman looked up and saw them. Her lips worked in what was probably meant as a smile. “Or you will,” she told her torturer, as he started to turn to face them. Then she pulled herself up on her wrists and wrapped her legs around the man's neck.

The body of the Venatori had barely hit the ground before the Herald was at her side, dropping his sword and shield to support her body while he freed her wrists. “Just like Fort Drakon,” he said, a quaver noticeable in his voice.

For a brief moment she clung to him, like she couldn't believe he was real. “You're alive.”

He smiled genuinely for the first time since seeing Grand Enchanter Fiona in the cells. “If the Archdemon himself couldn't kill me, did you really think a measly Magister could do the job?”

She actually laughed, though it came out as more of a sob, “It really is you...”

“It really is,” the Herald agreed, letting her go to pick up his sword and shield.

“Do you have weapons?” she asked.

The Herald nodded. “Varric, Blackwall, find Leliana some armour and weapons.” He handed her a healing potion which she knocked back, the marks of torture quickly fading.

“The Magister’s probably in his chambers,” she said, pulling out fresh clothing from a chest.

Dorian supposed she had watched her torturers change many times, then realised she hadn't asked any questions. “You aren't curious how we got here?”

She looked at him blankly. “No.”

Surely she wasn't that unmoved? “Alexius sent us into the future,” he explained nonetheless. “This - his victory, his Elder One... it was never meant to be.” When she still didn’t react, Dorian continued, “We have to reverse his spell. If we can get back to our present time, we can prevent this future from ever happening.”

Suddenly she looked angry. “And mages always wonder why people fear them.” The Herald tensed but didn't interrupt. “No-one should have this power.”

It wasn't supposed to be like this, he wanted to say. Instead he agreed with her. “It's dangerous and unpredictable, yes. Before the Breach, nothing we did...”

“Enough!” she almost shouted, looking more upset than she had being tortured. “This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real.”

“It was,” the Herald said, stepping forward with his hands held out imploringly. “This isn't pretend to me. This is my childhood home, corrupted. My family… hurt.”

She looked him hard in the eye. “How would you have felt if Duncan had found you in Fort Drakon, saying Ostagar, Loghain’s betrayal was all a mistake - a future that should never have happened? That he would be going back and undoing that year? That all your struggles would become meaningless?”

He held her gaze in silence for a long moment. “And prevent all those deaths? The civil war? Selling elves into slavery? What would my feelings matter in that balance?”

Dorian felt like an intruder into their private moment. He only recognised half of what they were alluding to as the events of the Fifth Blight.

Leliana sighed and her stance relaxed. “My Maker, know my heart. Take from me a life of sorrow. Lift me from a world of pain.”

“Judge me worthy of Your endless pride,” the Herald finished with her, and Dorian understood for the first time why so many believed he was truly chosen by Andraste herself.

The moment was broken by Varric's return, bearing armour and weapons for the Spymaster. Suddenly they were all business again, making ready to move out to find and face Alexius. Dorian couldn't help but feel a chill; when it came down to it, would he be as calm as they were over killing his former mentor?


	10. Chapter 10

Alistair knew Leliana wouldn’t tell them anything she didn’t have to. Dorian looked as though he wanted to ask more questions but Leliana's frown seemed to quell his curiosity before he had to interfere. If he was honest, Alistair didn't want to know the details, what he had seen already was bad enough, would give him nightmares for weeks to come.

They moved on, coming across the first rift they had found in this strange future then, as they approached the castle’s private docks, two mages, dressed in Circle robes rather than the comparative finery of the Venatori. Disturbingly, they seemed even more fanatically devoted to this Elder One as they sacrificed themselves before their eyes saying, "The Magister needs more power for his rituals" and becoming shades.

He turned to Dorian once they were defeated hoping, since he and Alexius had apparently studied this time magic together, that he might know something about what it involved. "More power for his rituals?"

Apparently from the look of deep thought on his face and the defensive hunch of his shoulders, Dorian didn’t know anything about said rituals. He shrugged, "Unfortunately, here I think your guess is as good as mine, especially if your guess was blood magic."

Alistair pulled a face. "Right..." then shook his head. In that case they just needed to push on until they found Alexius himself He told them, "The rear courtyard should be just up these stairs," and led the way up the short set of steps until they came out into the open air and just... stopped, all staring up at the sky.

It was horrifying, possibly one of the unnerving things he had ever seen, and Alistair had faced down an Archdemon. He was almost lost for words. "The Breach, it's..."

"Everywhere," Dorian finished. 

And it was, the whole sky filled with that sickly green glow, the hole impossible to ignore. You couldn't look up and not see it. Worse were the floating ruins - was that actually the Black City? It looked like every time he had been in the Fade but here and real.

They didn't linger, couldn't under that terrifying sky, but had only just reached the top of the next set of stairs when a rift appeared before their eyes. Dorian cast something at it as Alistair closed the distance. He didn't manage to get there before anything spawned but the sole wraith was no match for them and the rift was quickly sealed.

The energy was still sparking on his hand suggesting there was yet another nearby and Alistair couldn't help but wonder many more such rifts they would encounter if it was the time magic causing them. At least it probably proved they were getting closer to Alexius. He hesitated a moment, turning to Dorian with a sudden thought. "Would it be better to head straight for Alexius now or will all these rifts still be there when we get back to our Redcliffe?"

"You can't mean to leave them," Blackwall objected.

Alistair favoured him with a dark look. "If it means stopping Alexius and his Elder One sooner? Shouldn't I be prepared to use any means necessary?" 

The other man winced at the rebuke, but he still had far too high an opinion of the Grey Wardens, didn't understand what it meant to make hard decisions. There was nothing Alistair wouldn’t do to prevent this future coming to pass, swallowing down the bile which rose as he pushed away thoughts of Fiona’s blood...

Ignoring their exchange, Dorian addressed the original question. "I doubt the rifts will carry over but sadly I don't think leaving them is practical. It may take some time to modify the amulet and bring repeatedly attacked by demons won't help."

The mage had a good point. "I didn't think it could be that simple," he sighed. "All right, onwards then."

The second rift wasn't far and they shut it down quickly, then Alistair took a deep breath to prepare himself before leading them through a side door into the castle itself. Structurally it wasn't in as bad condition as the dungeons, though there were still red lyrium growths, but they weren't the main issue. Even in the entrance hall there were bodies strewn on the ground, in various stages of decomposition. If he'd thought the torture chambers were bad, at least he'd been able to convince himself the living quarters couldn't be as bad. It was no surprise Alexius had locked himself in the ‘throne room’ if he couldn't even keep this area clear.

The first room they checked on their way to the main hall, once a storeroom, had the look of having been roughly converted into a bedroom. On the desk was a journal, which he left Dorian to examine closer as they moved on.

In the room opposite, once Eamon's study, they met the first person to not attack outright and Alistair was ashamed it took him a few moments to recognise the young man hunched over on front of the fire. "Connor," he said, caught between relief and horror, as he realised the words he was muttering were the Litany of Adralla.

His cousin's head shot up and he flung himself across the room into Alistair's arms, clinging to him despite the plate armour. He saw his companions twitch, expecting an attack, as the younger man wept, "You're alive. They said... they said Alexius had killed you. They wanted us all to become demons - I fought but it was so hard..."

"I knew you could do it, Connor," he told him, wrapping his shield arm tight around the boy. "I'm so proud of you." The others had the decency to look away from their display of emotion as he held Connor murmuring gentle words of comfort into his hair. Leliana might have experienced physical torture and, though the mental torment Connor had experienced had left no visible scars, it was obvious to Alistair how he had suffered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair saw Dorian taking the opportunity to read the journal he picked up earlier whilst Blackwall searched the room and Varric went through the desk. Leliana stayed in the doorway, presumably keeping watch for Venatori.

Alistair was hardly paying them any attention as he calmed Connor when Varric called out, "Sparkler, come look at this. I think it's Tevene."

It shouldn't have surprised him that the dwarf already had a nickname for their newest companion, and 'Sparkler' wasn't bad as far as Varric's nicknames went but it was Dorian's shocked, "Alexius' journal!" which made him look up, though he kept an arm around Connor.

Though it clearly took some mental agility to translate as he went, Dorian read the last entry aloud to them all and his shocked expression matched the rest of theirs.

If Alexius had failed the Elder One in being unable to undo the events of the Conclave, what had the Elder One been trying to do there? At the same time at being horrified at the lengths the Magister had gone to, Alistair couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him, "He did all this just to prevent his son dying from the Blight sickness?"

"Why didn't he just go to the Wardens?" Blackwall demanded.

Dorian blinked. "What would they have done?"

They did have Grey Wardens in Tevinter, didn't they? Alistair shared an awkward glance with Blackwall before answering, "Wardens are... immune to the Blight sickness." It was as close to the truth as he could probably admit. "The induction is... challenging but any chance is better than none, surely?"

Dorian frowned and looked thoughtful, which was concerning in itself. Even the most postering Orlesian noble would consider the Grey Wardens a better prospect than death and, though the soft rarely survived the Joining, it seemed Felix Alexius had already lived for some months past his initial infection.

Seeming to realised they were expecting a response, Dorian stumbled with, "Ah well, the Grey Wardens are hardly a respectable choice of career."

Blackwall looked offended but Alistair had to laugh. "No, of course, joining a crazed cult and coming up with a new school of magic which damages the fabric of reality is clearly a much more reasonable option."

"Of course," Dorian said, looking relieved. Then the frown turned and he turned to Leliana. "What became of Felix? Do you know?"

"Yes, I know," she said flatly.

Alistair could well imagine; either the young man had finally succumbed to the Blight or he had become a ghoul. Leliana didn't elaborate but Connor shifted as though he was going to say something. Alistair squeezed his shoulder and he subsided.

"And you're not going to tell me?" For the first time, Dorian sounded genuinely hurt and Alistair wondered how close he and Felix actually were. They must have known each other before all this if Alexius had been his mentor.

"You'll find out soon enough," was all Leliana would say.

Alistair hoped Dorian would be satisfied with that. "Avernus?" he asked Leliana, remembering the twisted mage from Soldier's Peak and when she nodded, shook his head in frustration. What a waste of a life. He took a deep breath, pushing away thoughts of Fiona telling him about when she had faced the Architect, he couldn't deal with those memories yet. "Well, unless you've changed your mind, we better take this fight to Alexius," he said, releasing Connor so he could meet his eyes. "Are you staying here? Or coming with us?"

"Actually, he may be able to help," Dorian said, looking down at the journal in his hand.

Connor shuddered. "Can I?" he asked, sounding doubtful. "I mean, that is, I can try but..."

He smiled at his young cousin, hoping it looked reassuring. At least he hadn’t asked about Fiona, just as Alistair wouldn’t ask what had become of Eamon or Teagan.

Dorian made a show of referring to the journal before he continued. "One of Alexius' associates writes he has installed a shard doorway, Maker only knows where he found it, which means all his trusted assistants are required to attend together in order to reach him. It's the height of paranoia and it would be inconvenient to track all those entrusted with the shards, unless perhaps you might know who they were or where find them?"

Connor looked almost hopeful. "Yes... yes I do. But, well, they take him meals twice a day. You could just get them next time?"

Alistair wished they could; he didn't want to drag Connor around the wreck of their home, forcing him to see what had happened but, "I don't think we can wait that long," he said gently. "Connor, I know this must be hard for you, but if you help us it could make a big difference."

Dorian looked confused, being unaware of Connor's history and Alistair was trying to think of a simple way to explain it when Leliana spoke up, her eyes on the boy the whole time. "Connor is the son of the previous Arl of Redcliffe - this is his home, even more than it is Alistair's."

Alistair nodded, returning a hand to Connor's shoulder for reassurance. He could tell Leliana didn't intend to stop there but he didn't feel prepared to argue with her. Connor himself looked pale, his hands twisting together but he didn't say anything either as she continued, "During the Blight, when his father was poisoned by a maleficar working under Teryn Loghain's orders, Connor was possessed a demon in return for preventing the Arl's death. The castle and village of Redcliffe were overrun by undead."

"Stop, please," Connor choked out, tears running down his face.

She had gone too far. "Leliana," Alistair pleaded.

"Your Tevinter friend wanted to know," she said. "Do you not think it is relevant information?"

Alistair's jaw clenched, she made it sound as though Connor had deliberately accepted the possession. He had been a child, not that Jowan had been much more himself. He would lay the blame for the whole business thoroughly at Loghain's feet. "We needed Eamon to call the Landsmeet, to reunite Ferelden, to end the Blight. None of us would be here now if he had died."

Dorian looked astonished and Alistair realised what that had sounded like. It wasn't that he really condoned making deals with demons per se but part of the Wardens' philosophy was that they would do anything necessary. Still, given the silence which followed his words, he felt the need to elaborate. "That sounded better in my head. I'm not saying demons aren't bad, or blood magic isn't wrong, just... it worked out in the end, didn't it? We wouldn't have even looked for the Urn of Sacred Ashes if we hadn't needed them to heal Arl Eamon." He was frustrated at Leliana for bringing the matter up in the first place and Connor still looked on the verge of tears.

"I'm sure that was a great comfort to the people of Redcliffe who lost family members," said Leliana coldly.

"And there are no people in Redcliffe now, so perhaps we could get back to killing Alexius?" Varric stepped in as a voice of reason. "Stick the back with me, lad," he told Connor, "and just tell us where to go. We'll do the rest."

"I..." he looked at Dorian from under lowered lashes and the Tevinter mage gave him a smile which was probably intended to look reassuring. Alistair kept a steadying hand between his shoulder blades and felt the moment when Connor relaxed. "Alright, I'll come."

"Excellent," Dorian smiled widely. "In which case I think some proper introductions are in order. I am Dorian, of House Pavus." He sketched a bow and, when Connor didn't respond continued, "Our esteemed Herald and Spymaster you clearly know already. This hairy lummox is Warden Blackwall and the charming dwarf..."

"Is Varric Tethras, at your service," Varric interrupted.

"You wrote 'Tales of the Champion,'" Connor said, wide-eyed and Alistair shook his head, he should have remembered how Connor had enjoyed reading that one.

"I did indeed," said Varric with a broad smile. "You see, we're going to get on just fine."

Alistair felt the tension in the room dissipate as Connor offered the dwarf a small smile, apparently deciding to ignore Dorian for now. "Alexius... There are five of his people with the... keys for the door," Connor told them.

He gave them his best idea on where to find them, though he pointed out he hadn’t strayed far from these rooms, since it wasn’t safe even within the castle walls. It seemed pointless to head to the main hall if it would only be barred to them, so Alistair led them around the castle based on Connor's directions. There was less red lyrium here, but instead a green mist those up from the stone floors and snaked around their ankles, bringing with it a sense of the Fade.

The constant glow also meant it took longer to notice the brightening of his mark, until they reached a door and heard fighting beyond it.

"A rift," Connor said, looking pale again.

"Does this happen a lot?" Blackwall asked.

He nodded and Alistair supposed this was what he had meant when he said the castle wasn’t safe. It probably explained the bodies strewn around too, the Venatori had likely left the free mages to bear the brunt of the early attacks, until they were too few in number to succeed.

"Crazy cultists destroying themselves too," Varric said drily. "Who'd have thought it?"

"So, are we going in or just waiting here until one side wins?" Dorian rested a hand on the door handle, the other unhooking his staff.

"We go now," Alistair said, nodding for him to open the door.

Down a short flight of steps they could see three Venatori fighting shades in front of a rift. Dorian stepped aside to allow the warriors past and, as Alistair moved forward he saw Connor tug on the other mage’s sleeve and heard him saying, "That mage, he's one of Alexius' assistants. The guards must have called him to help with the rift."

Then Alistair was in the middle of a fight, tuning everything else out as irrelevant. The two guards went down quickly and then the shades split off to target them instead. Dorian’s lightning flashed out, focusing on the final Venatori and it didn't take long for them to put down both the mage and the shades then Alistair turned to the rift. He felt self-conscious for the first time, knowing Connor was watching him close it.

He had no time to worry though as, by the time he turned back, Dorian was calling him over to the spellbinder’s body, where he had found what he thought he was looking for - a shard about the size of his palm - which appeared to be red lyrium. At least he had listened to Alistair’s earlier warning, not touching it himself.

Alistair shook his head disbelievingly. "They're making keys out of this stuff? Sure. Another four to go, right?"

"Indeed, if your... young friend is correct."

He frowned, had he not explained his relationship to Connor? No, he hadn’t actually said how he had come to live at Redcliffe either. Well, that could wait until they were back in their own time. "Cousin is probably the closest," he said

Dorian inclined his head. "Your cousin then." He looked over to where Connor was carefully picking his way across the room, avoiding the essence the shades left behind. "Should we find him a staff?" he asked and, when Alistair gave him a confused look elaborated, "He may not want to fight but neither demons nor the Venatori will care about that. Wouldn't it be better if he could at least defend himself?"

He was probably right and it wasn’t as though the Venatori needed it anymore. Connor was reluctant to accept the weapon but Varric persuaded him it wouldn’t hurt to at least carry it.  
Alistair was soon glad of Dorian’s suggestion when an enemy spellbinder Fade Stepped into the middle of their group as they ambush half a dozen Venatori over their dinner table for the second shard.

They also took the Venatori by surprise when they found the third shard, Blackwall suggesting smashing through the thin internal wall between rooms at the same time as the others rushed through the main door. It worked surprisingly well with the cultists pinned by arrows from two directions.

As they got towards the upper floors, where corridors passed across the top of the main hall, they started to find more massive growths of red lyrium.

“How much damage did Alexius’ spell do?” Dorian asked.

“Rifts tore apart all of Southern Thedas, starting here,” Leliana replied. “But whether that’s his doing or the Breach, who can say?”

In the rooms up there, they found notes from the Venatori’s studies on the Blight, learning how they had been transfusing blood from resistant prisoners and grafts of flesh to try to cure the infected, which probably explained why Fiona had been kept alive and, according to the notes, Leliana’s blood had proved valuable to them too. Alistair felt sick just reading about their experiments.

They ran into the fourth of Alexius’ advisors coming out of the library, this time in a fairly large group but they still made short work of them. Half the ceiling had collapsed on the main corridor leading away from the room, so the Venatori had nowhere to retreat to, given them the advantage of terrain.

By the time they found the last shard, in the chapel, which the Venatori had desecrated to the worship of their Elder One, Connor was becoming confident in his casting, though he still hesitated before joining in with the fighting.

They finally made their way to the ‘throne room’, where Dorian believed he knew how to manipulate the shards to open the door. Magic flickered over the strange doorway’s surface once they were in place and it swung open silently.

Alexius stood with his back to them, shoulders slumped in defeat. Alistair tried to find the well of anger he’d felt on seeing Fiona but could only bring himself to feel a terrible empty grief. “What have you done, Alexius?” he said.

The Magister didn’t turn around. “I knew you would appear again,” he said, flatly. “Not when but I knew I hadn’t destroyed you. My final failure.”

Alistair was lost for words but Dorian stepped up. “Was it worth it, Alexius?” he asked, his tone also almost gentle. “Everything you did to the world? To yourself?”

Alexius shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” He sounded totally defeated.

“We can undo this,” Alistair tried. “Send us back, Alexius. None of this needs to happen.”

“You cannot undo the past,” he said. “All that I fought for, all that I tried, and look what I wrought.”

A figure shuffled out of the shadows. Alistair could feel the sense of darkspawn upon them and knew this must be Felix’s fate. Dorian gasped in horror, since he hadn’t known what to expect.

“The Elder One comes for me, for you, for us all,” Alexius continued.

Leliana didn’t hesitate though, holding her knife to the ghoul’s neck. It would be kinder to put him out of his misery and Alistair nodded, ignoring Alexius’ sudden tension.

She drew her blade across Felix’s throat and Alexius’ cry would have tugged at Alistair’s heartstrings if the Magister hadn’t forced him to do the same to his mother already. He was prepared for Alexius’ attack, met it with a Smite and took pleasure in his shocked expression as the spell failed to land.

As they fought Alexius, rifts opened around him, caused by his magic and bringing demons to distract them, but finally they took him down and even as Dorian grieved over him, he claimed the amulet. A brief examination confirmed it was the same one and Dorian told them he could probably recreate the rift given an hour.

Even as he spoke, the castle shook and it was clear that, whatever was approaching, they didn’t have an hour. Since Varric, Blackwall and Leliana were from this time, they wouldn’t be able to return with he and Dorian. Alistair didn’t want to agree, but he knew they were right when they promised to fight to the death to give Dorian as much time as they could. 

“Cast your spell,” Leliana said, “you have as much time as I have arrows.”

Connor hesitated and Dorian turned away to work on the portal, giving them a few moments privacy. Alistair held him tight. “I’m proud of you, Connor. Your father would be too.”

“You’ll fix this?” Connor asked.

“I promise,” Alistair told him and watched as Connor pushed away his hesitancy and fears until there was only a confident, determined man before him.

“For Redcliffe,” Connor said, head held high and Alistair had to blink away his tears, not wanting to diminish his bravery, dishonour any of their sacrifices.

“For Redcliffe,” he echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *You know what I'd like - if Bioware would have used the same floor plan for Redcliffe in DA:O and DA:I or at least made them somewhat compatible*


	11. Chapter 11

Varric and Blackwall headed out of the hall, shutting the door behind them. Alistair wondered if he should have suggested resetting the shard doorway but it was too late now. Sparks began to appear around the amulet as Dorian worked on it. 

The roaring noise grew closer, the very ground shaking again and again, and they soon heard the sounds of fighting until the main doors burst open and demons and Venatori poured through, one of them dropping Varric's body before them as it did. There were no darkspawn amongst them, but Alistair still had a niggling sense of at least one nearby, the feeling just like he had had in his half-remembered dreams of being in the Fade.

Alistair longed to go to his friends' aid but Dorian told him he had to stay close. If anything happened to him here they would be unable to undo Alexius' plans and so he was forced to watch helplessly as one by one they fell.

A green swirling vortex formed in the air before he and Dorian, growing larger until it engulfed them. There was a flare of energy and then they were standing back in Redcliffe's hall in their own time.

Alistair felt shaken but Alexius looked devastated as Dorian stepped forward declaring, "You'll have to do better than that." The Magister dropped to his knees and Alistair was torn between sympathy at his desperate struggle to save his son and his anger at what lengths that had pushed him to. He reminded himself that nothing they had seen would be allowed to come to pass as he said, "You've lost, Alexius. Surrender now and we can work something out."

"You've won," he said, shoulders slumped in defeat. "There is no point extending this charade." He turned to his son, "Felix..." 

The young man knelt at his side. "It's going to be alright, Father."

Alexius refused to meet his eyes. "You'll die," he said, his tone broken with grief.

"Everyone dies," Felix said softly.

Alexius was pulled to his feet and looked surprised to be taken into custody rather than killed outright but allowed the Inquisition soldiers to lead him away.

Alistair had just plucked up the courage to turn to Fiona after everything he had seen when there came the sound of armoured feet on stone. When they rounded the corner, Alistair saw they were Ferelden royal guards and his heart skipped a beat. Teagan must have headed for Denerim when the Tevinters had thrown him out, but had he returned alone with support or had Anora actually come herself?

Of course she had, though she apparently hadn't expected to find him here, judging by the surprise on her face. Alistair wished he had brought Cassandra to hide behind whilst she did the talking, since Leliana would never let him get away with that.

It wasn't him the Queen turned to first though. "Grand Enchanter," she said, and Fiona stepped forward, hands twisting nervously in front of her. "Imagine how surprised I was to learn you had given Redcliffe away to a Tevinter Magister."

He burned at the unfairness of that accusation. Anora knew nothing of what Alexius had put Fiona through.

"Queen Anora," Fiona started, but the Queen wasn't finished.

"Especially since I am fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan," she continued. What had Teagan told her? Why wasn't he here himself?

"Your Majesty..." Fiona finally managed to say, "we never intended..."

"I know what you intended," Anora interrupted. "I wanted to help you, but you've made it impossible. You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden." She looked directly at Alistair when she said this and he raised his chin defiantly. Had Teagan told her what his relationship was to Fiona? Did she still somehow fear he was a threat to the throne he had never wanted?

Surely she had heard about the claim he was the Herald of Andraste? Did she not understand what was happening here? Or, no, Anora was smart, she must realise she was handing the mages over to the Inquisition, so perhaps she didn't know of their connection, only thought she was putting him on the spot.

Fiona gasped. "We have hundreds who need protection. Where will we go?"

"We did come here for mages to close the Breach," Alistair pointed out. Was it his imagination, or did Anora actually look satisfied at that statement? Still, he couldn't waste his time watching her.

Even as she turned to face him, Fiona didn't meet his eyes, instead looking past him, perhaps to Leliana. Her expression was pinched, shoulders tight as she asked, "And what are the terms of this arrangement?"

"Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you. The Inquisition is better than that, yes?" Dorian said, in an encouraging tone and Alistair hoped their shared experience of that dark future had convinced the Tevinter he was an ally to mages.

Fiona looked anguished as she said, "It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer."

Alistair shook his head. Did she imagine there was anything she could do which would make him turn her away. "We would be honored to have you serve as allies at the Inquisition's side." He knew Leliana wouldn't gainsay it, not least because she knew who Fiona was to him and by the time they got back to Haven, Cassandra and the others would have little choice but to accept his decision.

By the expression of relief on her face, Fiona had not been willing to count on his support. Anora looked slightly disappointed, as she turned to him saying, "Herald, I trust you will not be staying here either?"

He bowed, remembering the court manners Eamon and Isolde had drilled into him all those years ago. "Your Majesty,” he said. “I will gladly relieve you of the burden of my presence."

She pursed her lips but said nothing as she turned and walked away, the royal guards following her out.

There was little opportunity for private conversation on the journey back to Haven. Fiona insisted on remaining at the rear of the group to ensure all the mages were safe as they travelled, and Leliana encouraged Alistair to ride ahead with her to inform the council of their agreement and make preparations for their arrival.

As predicted, the others were unhappy with his decision, but it was not Cassandra who opposed it most strongly but Cullen.

"It's not a matter for debate, there will be abominations among the mages and we must be prepared," he insisted.

They had been going round in circles with the argument and Alistair struggled not to lose his temper with the Inquisition's commander.

Josephine, whilst she refused to take a side, repeated her insistence that the Inquisition could not rescind their offer without appearing disorganised.

Cullen turned on Alistair again, "What were you thinking, turning mages lose with no oversight?"

Alistair snapped. "I was thinking they were people who had done nothing wrong and didn't deserve to be treated otherwise on the off chance they might. There's only one person here who's harmed innocents."

Cullen's temper flared in response. "I know mages, I spent over a decade in the Circle and I'm telling you they're not safe."

"This isn't Kirkwall," Alistair retorted. "It isn't a Circle at all. You have no experience of living with free mages but I have and I assure you, it's not the mages the people of Haven should fear."

Cullen flinched and Alistair knew he had won this round, but he wished they didn’t need to constantly be at each other’s throats.

"Why do you care so much about the fate of the rebel mages?" Cullen asked.

"They're my family," he said, there was no other explanation he could offer. He had grown up with no-one and could never explain how much Fiona's instant acceptance had meant to him. He had since learnt it was common-place for Circle mages to have their children ripped away from them as babes in arms and he had witnessed many such reunions in Redcliffe but it didn't change their impact.

He could see Cullen, as well as Cassandra, wanting to ask more questions but Leliana, Maker bless her, stepped up. "Connor Guerrin is among those who coming here from Redcliffe." From the tightness of Cullen's expression, Alistair knew he both recognised the name and remembered their previous meeting. Connor had been a terrified 12-year-old and, if he was being fair, Cullen had been a traumatised young man himself, Knight-Commander Greagoir should never have let them near each other but he had and it hadn't gone well.

Josephine, ever the diplomat, turned the conversation away to other concerns of the Inquisition and the question of the free mages was dropped, though Alistair didn't doubt he would hear more about it in future.

Leliana mentioned needing to investigate the things they had heard about in the future, particularly the assassination of Empress Celene. Now safely back in the present, Alistair could allow himself to worry about Morrigan and Kieran, presumably still with Celene in Halamshiral but he still wasn’t certain he wanted to tell Leliana that.

Cassandra pointed out closing the Breach was their main priority, as if they needed to be reminded, though Cullen told them he would need time to get their troops ready to march on the summit. Reluctantly Cullen invited Alistair to join their war table discussions.

Alistair insisted that, since they were were using the mages to help close the Breach, Grand Enchanter Fiona should also have a say in their plans. The other advisors were not keen on taking Fiona's advice, and Cullen objected most, but Alistair's arguments won out and it was agreed they would meet the following morning.

When he caught up with Fiona afterwards, Alistair didn't mention any of the argument to her, though he doubted she would be under any misconceptions about the welcome she would get from someone like Cullen. He found her talking with Solas; by and large the mages were being accommodated in tents the same as the soldiers, but Solas had offered Fiona the second room of the cabin he had been given. They were discussing the Fade and Alistair would have been happy to sit and listen, just enjoying her company, but the other mage soon excused himself.

Finally alone they could have the private reunion he had been missing. They sat side by side and Alistair wrapped his arms around her tightly, the pain of what had happened in the future catching up with him. He couldn't tell her the details though, only swear silently he would never allow it to happen. At the same time, he could feel the shoulder of his shirt becoming damp with her tears.

"When we heard about the events of the Conclave, I was so afraid," she told him.

"How do you think I felt?" he replied. It was supposed to be a joke but there was too much truth in it. 

Fiona's arms tightened around him and he rested his head against hers. "Tell me what happened?" she asked.

He took a deep breath, allowing the memories to surface. He was safe here, for now at least. He described the experience of being in the Fade and the sense of darkspawn. He skimmed over waking up in the cell and moved on to the closing of the first rift and the visions they had seen there.

He held his hand out for her to examine the mark, the first person he had allowed to do so, though he knew both Solas and Adan had while he was unconscious. It didn't hurt exactly, but it wasn't a pleasant feeling when someone touched it, let alone used magic on it.

Alistair knew he needed to speak to her about what he had seen in the future but couldn't bring himself to talk about it yet. "They want me to help decide what the Inquisition does next," he said instead. "After the Breach is closed."

Fiona nodded. "Well, they do believe you are the Herald of Andraste."

"Do you?" Religion wasn't a subject they discussed a great deal but he knew she, in common with Kallian and other city elves, felt conflicted between Andrastian beliefs and the ancient elvhen pantheon.

"You have been through such a lot," she said, "it seems an incredible coincidence if there is not a greater power behind it." She sighed heavily. "I had hoped you would be able to have a peaceful life."

Alistair laughed. "With you and Maric as parents? What great examples you set of leading quiet lives..."

She smiled and her lips quirked. "Just wait until your son is old enough to get up to his own adventures."

Alistair's smile faltered a little. "I've not told anyone else here about Kieran."

"Then my lips are sealed," she assured him.

"But talking of sons..." he said, swiftly changing the subject.

She knew him well enough to catch on. "You are thinking of Alexius' son, Felix?"

"Yes." Alistair hesitated, "I thought I should offer him the Joining."

Fiona nodded, "And you had another Warden with you, yes? Blackwall?"

Alistair laughed. Of course, Fiona's darkspawn sense had gone away too when she was 'cured.' "He's not a full Warden, though he would like to be," he explained. "I was planning on arranging a ceremony for him anyway, just need the ingredients."

"I can provide the lyrium," she said, "and I know you have the archdemon blood."

Alistair touched the vial hanging around his neck, matching Kallian's, a reminder of Urthemiel. Not that he needed it as such whenever he looked into Kieran's eyes.

"But you still need fresh darkspawn blood," Fiona continued, "and I haven't heard of any nearby."

"Nor have I exactly, but I believe there is a mine full of red lyrium on the road to Redcliffe and I have an idea about it." He explained about it being tainted lyrium and, painfully, described some of what he and Dorian had found in the future. She flinched when he mentioned Dorian's name, reminding him of her late and unlamented owner. 

When he told her about Alexius' experiments with curing the taint, harvesting red lyrium, she agreed with his assessment, as indeed her future self had done, that it did seem likely the lyrium was Blighted in some way. She also agreed to help perform the Joining ceremony for Blackwall, and Felix Alexius, if he accepted the offer.

Fiona was grateful to be included in the discussions about plans to close the Breach, already having come up with a number of ideas about how it would work and, though she was less impressed at having to work alongside First Enchanter Vivienne, she was willing to make the effort for Alistair's sake.

The following day, Alistair caught up with Dorian, since he had confirmed he was intending to remain with the Inquisition. Despite his comments in Redcliffe, Dorian seemed surprised the mages were genuinely being given the opportunity to live unsupervised. "Free mages?" he joked, "What next - elves running Halamshiral?"

Alistair shrugged. "I wouldn't mind seeing that."

Dorian raised an eyebrow but Alistair met his gaze steadily. He saw no reason to pretend he didn't support elvhen rights as much as mages. Dorian was the first to look away. "I don't know if you realise what you've done for mages," he said. "The Inquisition is seen as an authority. You've given southern mages license to... well, be like mages back home."

He frowned. "I've given them license to be people, I don't see why that should end up like Tevinter."

The mage didn't seem to realise Alistair had had plenty of time to consider the matter as he rambled on about the history of magic in Tevinter. He had the pleasant thought that Dorian might not have the faintest idea who he was or what he'd done before the events of the Conclave. 

"Still, my homeland should be a cautionary tale," Dorian said, winding up his story, "not a source of inspiration."

Alistair nodded, even as he changed the subject. “Have you been to visit Alexius?”

Dorian shook his head. "No, I can't bring myself to see him. Vishante kaffas, what was wrong with him that he had condoned blood magic sacrifices and demons, let alone encouraged it?"

"He thought he was doing what was best for his son," Alistair said with a shrug. He could understand that in itself, though the specifics of what Alexius had been were unpalatable. "You saw the notes about his experiments into curing the taint?"

"Yes, though I cannot explain his actions. It seems like madness to me." Dorian looked away and Alistair felt as though he was intruding on something private. "Felix was my best friend, like a brother to me, but once he became ill Alexius became increasingly unstable."

He couldn't concern himself with Alexius' mental health, not when so much else was still at stake. "What about the time magic?" he pressed. "Will he be able to repeat it? Can you?"

Dorian looked regretful. "I wish I knew more. It was all theoretical when we were working together. I can only speculate about how Alexius was been able make it work - perhaps utilising some specific quality of red lyrium?" He gave Alistair an enquirying look, perhaps remembering his comments in the future, but continuing when he didn't respond, "And I didn't perform time magic exactly, only undid his spell."

That was something at least, functional time magic was a complication they didn't need. "I know I owe you an explanation of several things we saw in that future," he told the mage, "but they will have to wait until we have time for a private conversation."

"I can be patient," Dorian almost purred. "I look forward to getting to know you better."

The flirtatious tone reminded Alistair of Zevran, who he knew was with Kallian, hopefully both safe from what was happening here, wherever they were.

"I can still introduce you to my cousin though..." he offered, having realised it would be awkward for the Tevinter to have to pretend not to know him.

Dorian accepted and Alistair made the introductions but Connor seemed mostly nervous. The Tevinter remained polite and it was clear he was trying not to be offended, after all his countrymen had hardly given a good impression.

Connor loosened up slightly when Dorian started talking about books and, when they started discussing magical theory, Alistair left them to it.

He headed next to Felix Alexius suspecting, given his state of health, he would be wanting to return to Tevinter sooner rather than later, so this was the best opportunity to make the offer of the Grey Wardens.

Felix was clearly torn. "I had come to turns with my inevitable death," he said, "and now you say it is not so inevitable?"

"You could still die," Alistair said, without elaborating. "And the Wardens are not easy to walk away from."

The Tevinter looked thoughtfully. "When do I need to decide?"

It was good that he was thinking it through. "There are some things we need to collect for the ceremony," he said. "You have until then."

Alistair made the arrangements to head back to that bandit camp and explore further. Cassandra wasn’t happy about Alistair heading out when they were so close to being ready to close the Breach but he pointed out they weren’t going far and Leliana could send a raven to them if needed. 

Felix agreed to accompany them, and wrote a number of letters settling the Alexius estates, leaving them with Dorian for safe-keeping if he did not return. Alistair took Blackwall and Felix, and brought Varric along too. Aside from needing a rogue's tricks, he thought the dwarf might be able to advise if it lead them into the Deep Roads. He still held out hope the 'bandits' might just have found ordinary lyrium, which they were certainly in need of despite Josephine's best efforts, with all the additional mages they had gained, as well as Cullen, and another handful of Templars who had stayed in Haven.

They headed out, leaving Solas and Fiona, along with Dorian and Vivienne, behind investigating the Breach, and it was only a couple of days ride to the nearest Inquisition camp.

Searching the area beyond the bandit camp uncovered a cave entrance with led into an old thaig, Valammar, full of Carta thugs, red lyrium and, of course, darkspawn. Sometimes he hated being right. At least he felt like he was achieving something with this though, clearing the area of darkspawn, rather than twiddling his thumbs waiting to be told what to do with the Breach. 

It was quickly evident that Felix had least experience in battle and it was good that he was a mage and could stay at the rear, throwing in the occasional spell if needed, since he tired quickly, the taint increasingly obvious. He had started to look on edge when Alistair pulled him aside, sending Varric and Blackwall ahead scouting, and Felix admitted he could hear the darkspawn. Alistair reassured him he wasn't losing his mind but it concerned him how much longer the mage could resist the taint.

Once the nest of darkspawn and Carta was cleared out they returned to the surface and, in the light of day it was evident how affected he was. They stopped a little distance from Haven and Varric headed back alone to fetch Fiona.

"This is your last opportunity to back out," Alistair told Blackwall and Felix but neither of them did.

By the time Fiona arrived with the chalice and lyrium, dusk had fallen. They poured the ingredients together and Alistair held out the potion. "Join us brothers. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn."

As Felix tipped the cup back and drank, Alistair forced down the part of him thinking about what he would tell Dorian or the Magister if he died. Felix had made his decision.

The mage collapsed to the floor, convulsing. Blackwall looked aghast as Alistair and Fiona just waited. "Why won't you do something?"

"There is nothing to be done," Fiona told him calmly. "It is up to him." 

It was quickly clear the Joining potion had been too much in Felix's weakened state. It was always hard to watch when a Joining was unsuccessful but Alistair reminded himself the mage had been already survived years longer than anyone else with the Blight sickness; he would have died within months anyway and this way he didn't need to suffer any longer.

When it came to Blackwall's turn, Alistair could see the horror in the man's eyes as he started to realise what it truly meant to be a Grey Warden. He too had thought of being a Warden as an honour back before the Blight, and even through most of that year he had clung to the idea. He had only started to let it go after they met Sophie Dryden's ghost and then Avernus.

When Riordan told them how to kill the archdemon he had thought he understood but then Morrigan had made her proposal and he had realised what any means necessary truly meant. Facing down the archdemon, not knowing whether or not her ritual had worked until after he had struck the final blow, had been the death knell of any thought that being a Warden was about honour or nobility.

The older man dropped the chalice and his eyes rolled back into his head as he fell to the floor but, it seemed the normal unconsciousness which followed a successful Joining. Whilst he recovered, Alistair and Fiona cleared away all traces of the ritual, including cleaning up Felix Alexius. Although his body would need to be burnt, under the circumstances, it wouldn't hurt to allow him a funeral.

They spent the night in vigil, returning to Haven in the morning to be met by Solas, informing them they were ready to close the Breach.


	12. Chapter 12

As Fiona and Blackwall carried Felix's body away, Solas walked Alistair to the war room, warning him they should be prepared for an attack. Given what the Elder One had already tried and what they had seen in the dark future, he wasn't likely to give up as easily as that. Alistair agreed and promised he would ensure the council understood.

At the war table they all agreed the time had come to close the Breach and that the final preparations should be made to set out the following day. Cullen would gather the Inquisition's forces, whilst Leliana and Cassandra would liaise with the mages via Fiona and Vivienne respectively. In light of the concerns about a further attempt by this Elder One, they agreed to leave some of their forces behind in Haven and Alistair was sent to speak with those of his companions who were interrupt of other groups to agree if they would join them at the Breach site or remain in the town to assist in its defence.

Dorian and Solas had joined up with Fiona and her free mages, working alongside Vivienne and the Inquisition's other mage, though Vivienne looked distinctly unimpressed at the company.

Alistair spoke to Cremisius, the Chargers' Lieutenant, who mentioned a rumour of something odd happening at Therinfal Redoubt and offered to take the Chargers to 'poke around.' If the Templars were up to something, Alistair wanted to know and the Inquisition ought to get their money's worth out of the mercenaries. Iron Bull himself agreed to come with them to see the Breach closed and Alistair supposed he thought that report would be of more interest to the Qun.

Sera refused to accompany them; she didn't want to be anywhere near the mages, especially given the weirdness of the Breach, and he couldn't hold that against her. She promised she would help keep watch in Haven and he had to admit he was grateful, certain she would notice even if the Elder One tried something more subtle than a frontal attack.

When he got to Blackwall, the man was pacing uncomfortably. "Does this singing never stop?"

Alistair frowned. He had learnt to block out the Blight-sense over the years, though he wouldn't have exactly described it as singing. Though come to mention it, since the Conclave it had become more insistent and, yes, more like singing. He had put it down to the presence of the red lyrium close by, or perhaps the Breach itself, but it was different. 

He bit his lip, not sure what to say, he had always heard the Calling described as singing, but that wasn't something he had ever expected to experience and certainly not something a newly Joined Warden should be hearing. "Not exactly," he prevaricated. "You get used to the sensation, but it gets worse around darkspawn or Blighted areas. Speaking of which, you no longer need to worry about handling red lyrium..."

Blackwall took the further revelations in his stride and Alistair was glad he didn't seem to be regretting his decision, not yet at least.

He moved onto Varric, who seemed cautiously optimistic. He had been dragged into this whole mess with almost as little choice as Alistair himself but he had proved invaluable. The dwarf agreed he would expect the Elder One to show himself when they tried to close the Breach, "Unless he's connected to it and wants it closed too."

"That's not necessarily very reassuring," Alistair said.

The dwarf shrugged. "It wasn't meant to be. Just telling you what I'd have the villain do if it was my story."

Alistair shook his head, "Hopefully this will be the end of it." This Elder One would still be out there but once the Breach was closed they could make further plans to deal with him.

They headed up to the summit to get as close to the Breach as possible to make their attempt. Alistair stood facing the Breach with the mages arranged behind him in a semi-circle and Fiona and Solas guiding those gathered to feed their power into him, into the mark.

The magic sparked from his hand and also from the Breach as he pushed closer towards it. He staggered forwards, as though through a strong wind, but it was waves of magical energy buffeting him.

He held up his hand and felt the magic weaving around him, channelled through the mark. The sheer wrongness of it made him dizzy but he could feel the power flowing into the Breach.

Unlike with the primary rift, this seemed almost controlled, but the additional power flow could explain that. Alistair felt the familiar signature of Fiona's magic, warm and comforting, of Connor's, edged with nervousness, the sharp focus of the former Circle mages, the wild power which must be Solas, so similar in its way to Morrigan's, and a joyful burst which could only be Dorian, no Southern mage would take such pleasure in their power.

It all rolled through him, setting every nerve alight, churning his stomach. The air around grew brighter, filling with a sharp scent like lightning, until there was a great flash and a wave of energy rushed back, throwing them all to the ground. 

Alistair's ears were ringing and he felt winded but as he looked up the Breach was gone and the sky was once again clear. He started to pull himself to his feet but stumbled as he felt the energy still wreathed tightly around his hand. He looked down and yes, the mark was still there. He felt his stomach twist and he was shaking as Cassandra came to offer him some support.

The effort had drained him but it had worked and that night the whole of Haven was were celebrating, with dancing and singing, and a fair amount of drinking. Alistair didn't quite feel like joining in with the celebrations. He had hoped it would all be over for him by now, the mark gone, and even knowing the Elder One was still out there, he had hoped he would be able to leave the Inquisition behind. 

Fiona had tried to persuade him not to be alone, to at least join the mages around their campfire, but when he had insisted she had given him the space he needed. A short while later Cassandra found him to let him know Solas had confirmed the Breach was closed, though the Veil was still scarred. There were rumours of lingering rifts but the operation had been a success. They were still talking when the alarm bell began to sound and they heard Cullen calling their forces to arms.

They headed for the gates, hearing shouts for arrows and barricades, to find Cullen speaking with the guard. He told them a large force had been spotted approaching over the mountain and that they were marching under no banner. That couldn't be a good thing - who would be able to assemble an army and yet not claim it?

As they spoke there came a loud knocking at the front gate and a boy's voice, sounding distressed, said, "I can't come in unless you open."

Alistair felt his heart clench, the voice sounding no older than Kieran, and went for the gate even as the others hesitated. He pulled up the bar and pushed it open it time to watch a heavy armoured warrior slump to the ground as a young man in a broad-brimmed hat pulled a blade out of his back.

"I'm Cole," he said, looking up at him from under his hat. "I came to warn you, to help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know."

He felt almost protective towards the young man, as he asked him what was happening and Cole explained it was the Templars coming, flinching away from Cullen when he approached. "The Red Templars went to the Elder One. You know him?" 

Red Templars as in red lyrium? That could be bad in so many ways - its effects had been bad enough from mere prolonged contact, let alone ingested the stuff. And there was something in the way Cole spoke which was still reminding him of Kieran.

"He knows you," Cole continued. "You took his mages. There," he pointed at one of the attackers, now close enough to make out their faces.

They weren't _his_ mages, Alistair thought with a surge of anger as he looked. There was something familiar looking about the Elder One, an emaciated frame with warped muscles, and was that red lyrium growing out of him? Alistair couldn’t sense anything from him at this distance, but just from his appearance he was almost certain he was a darkspawn as he had predicted.

"I know that man," Cullen said, sounding upset, but he was looking in a slightly different direction, at one of the Templars, wielding a sword taller than him. "But this Elder One..."

"He's very angry that you took his mages," said Cole.

The matter of fact statement was somehow all the more chilling and Alistair felt a surge of panic, reminded of the darkspawn horde overwhelming Denerim. There were too many of them and Haven was full of civilians. The Inquisition's soldiers were no match for trained Templars and their mages would be disadvantaged by their magic suppressing abilities. He forced himself to take a deep breath, "Cullen, give me a plan." The ex-Templar knew the limitations of their forces, must know how best to take advantage of their enemies' weaknesses.

"Haven is no fortress," Cullen said. "We must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can." He turned to give orders to the mages and others who had been drawn to the alarm; Alistair caught sight of Fiona in the crowd, but he couldn't spare the energy to worry about her.

The first few waves of Templars were clearly not their best, but there was something unnerving about them all the same, a scratchy almost-darkspawn sense in the back of his mind, though his silverite blade didn't seem especially effective. Amongst them were also abominations dressed in Templar armour, and Cullen insisted mages were the threat. Worse though were the handful who were monstrously misshapen, with red lyrium actually growing out of them but at least the silverite seemed to bother them.

It was somehow more shocking even than they had seen in the future. The horde which had overrun them at the end had at least been mostly demons. Had the Elder One's failure with Alexius' scheme forced him to move up his plans or had he been working on this since they had seen the Templars in Val Royeaux. Had Lord Seeker Lucius already been under the influence of red lyrium, causing his uncharacteristic behaviour, as Cassandra had noted. Was this what Cremisius had meant about worrying happenings at Therinfal? If so, thank the Maker the Chargers hadn't had the chance to go and investigate.

They managed to push back the Templars, preventing them getting to the northernmost trebuchet, allowing it to fire into the forces in the valley, but they kept coming, mercilessly. Were they even aware of their own actions? He pressed forwards, with whoever could keep up with him, driving the Templars off the more southern trebuchet and, once both were clear, they fired not into that seething force but into the mountains on either side of the pass, triggering an avalanche which buried the bulk of the oncoming army in several feet of rocks and snow.

But it wasn’t over yet, as a dragon roared overhead, setting the nearest trebuchet alight. Cullen ordered them to pull back behind the gates. It wasn’t clear if the dragon was being controlled by the Elder One or just enjoying wreaking destruction in its own right as it set fire to tents and wooden buildings, which made up a large amount of the newer sections of Haven, but they couldn't fight both at the same time.

There were still plenty of Red Templars who had made it passed the valley and they could still be overrun. Cullen barred the gates as the last of their forces made it through and Cassandra called for everyone to regroup at the Chantry, the only building big enough to hold everyone and resist the dragon. 

Alistair had fought enough dragons before to know they couldn't take it whilst it was flying. It would take more than normal arrows to bring it down but, if it couldn’t burn them out, if would have to come to ground to fight them and then maybe they had a chance. In coloration it reminded him of Flemeth’s dragon form and from there he found himself thinking of Morrigan.

At his side, Cole tilted his head thoughtfully. "Raven feathers in her black hair. A small hand in hers. Your little dragonling. At least they're not here." How... Was he reading his mind? Alistair was shaken by Cole's comments but, at the same time, he again reminded him somewhat of Kieran. He thought of his son's knowing eyes, far older than they should be and, though he couldn't see Cole's, he was certain they would be the same.

The boy nodded. "More than he appears, he sees further, ancient knowledge, buried deep."

"We can talk about that another time," Alistair told him, not willing to deal with the questions he was raising. "Not now."

There was a shout off to one side and by the time he looked back Cole had slipped away again. Alistair went to the aid of Lysette, one of the friendlier Templars who had stayed loyal to the Inquisition, who had been cut off by a couple of Red Templars who had made it passed the gate. She was doing her best and, though she was no match for them alone, once he waded in, they quickly put them down.

He sent Lysette on to the Chantry building but had no chance to follow before a cry came from outside a nearby building as the roof collapsed in flames. He recognised it as Seggrit's shop, the doorway blocked with boxes of goods which must have been up in the rafters. "He's still in there," one of the defenders said, standing around helplessly. Fortunately Alistair and Cassandra were able to smash through the boxes with brute strength to free the trapped merchant.

There was another group of people were around the tavern, trying to clear the wreckage to get those trapped inside out and Alistair found himself needed again as the innkeeper, Flissa, had been knocked unconscious by a falling beam which no-one else could lift off her.

Herding the townspeople ahead of them, they made it back to the centre of the village in time to see a small explosion. Alistair sent the others ahead to the Chantry and investigated himself, finding Adan and Minaeve on the ground looking groggy where they had been peppered with flying debris from a crate or similar which had exploded in front of them. He helped them to their feet, pushing them in the direction of the Chantry too.

Just outside the Chantry building, he heard loud swearing and looked back to see Threnn surrounded by Templars but still fighting. If she was upset it was him who came to her aid, she didn't say anything and, once the Templars were dealt with, there was a grudging appreciation in her tone as she thanked him.

Finally Alistair couldn't see or hear any more civilians in danger and made it to the entrance of the Chantry where Roderick was holding the door, looking pale. Once they were all inside, the Chancellor collapsed, only Cole's support preventing him hitting the floor. “He tried to stop a Templar,” the newcomer said. “The blade went deep. He’s going to die.”

Alistair was reluctantly impressed by the man’s bravery at facing down a Templar with no weapons. He looked around trying to spot a healer, surely there had to be at least one spirit healer amongst the mages, but he couldn’t see any such and there were dozens of walking wounded.

They couldn't stay here, they needed to evacuate Haven but where could they go? Deeper into the mountains? Surely the Templars would track them, even if they could find some narrow pass where the dragon couldn't follow.

“That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us” Cullen said, looking stressed as he walked towards them.

“I’ve seen an archdemon,” said Cole unhelpfully. “I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”

“I’ve fought an archdemon,” Alistair said firmly. “And whatever that was, it wasn’t one.” It wasn’t, was it? It couldn’t be. He should know, but he was reminded of Blackwall’s comment, about the singing. It didn’t feel the same as the Blight but what if they were all different?

“I don’t care what it is,” Cullen said. "It's destroying the village. It'll kill everyone."

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village, he only wants the Herald,” Cole replied.

Cullen's only suggestion was to turn the remaining trebuchet on the mountain above them, burying the village and Templars both. Aside from the massive loss of life that would cause, there was no guarantee it would stop the dragon and Alistair would bet it wouldn't stop the Elder One either.

Before he could come up with an appropriately scathing response, Cole interrupted so Chancellor Roderick could speak. The man laboriously described how he had discovered a secret passage out of the Chantry which led beyond where the Temple had stood, deep into the Frostback Mountains.

If the Templars didn't see them go, they wouldn't know to follow and a narrow passageway would be easier to defend. They agreed they would get the civilians out and as many of their forces as they could; it wouldn't help the civilians sending them into the mountains unprotected.

"If this Elder One wants me, he can have me," Alistair said. "Good luck to him." He wasn't going out there intending to die but what was his life against hundreds? This was no different to facing down the Archdemon; he was the best person to do it. He would gladly take the Elder One down with him and, if Cole was right and the dragon was another Archdemon, Fiona knew enough to guide Blackwall in what was needed.

Cullen looked concerned as he asked Alistair what he intended to do.

"Either I am the Herald of Andraste and she won’t let me die or I’m just a lucky bastard and why not test that luck one more time?" Alistair swallowed hard. "If I don’t make it back, tell Fiona I’m sorry."

Cullen's expression turned to confusion but Alistair turned away before the former Templar could register his meaning. As Cole helped Roderick to his feet, the Chancellor grasped Alistair's hand, promising to pray for his success.

A small group volunteered to come with Alistair and operate the trebuchet. Cullen gave them instructions, then turned back to tell Alistair, "Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the tree line."

He headed out, Cassandra at his side, hearing the doors slam behind them. There was no turning back now.


	13. Chapter 13

They fought their way back across the village, now a wreck of smashed and burnt out buildings, blood and other viscera underfoot which had already started to freeze in the cold night air and added another obstacle to their journey. There were less of the Red Templars now but they seemed to be drawn to him, or perhaps it was the lack of other targets.

They passed through the now shattered gates to reach the trebuchet, as The Iron Bull caught up with them. “I didn’t want to let you have all the fun, boss,” he said with a shrug. Alistair was again reminded that the Chargers were somewhere out there, hopefully well beyond the snow-packed valley and the remnants of the Templars’ army and couldn’t bring himself to turn the Qunari away.

It wasn’t easy, to shift the trebuchet round, with the shadow of the dragon always overhead, but slowly, they managed it between waves of twisted Templars and shades. The worst came when a behemoth with the face of Knight-Captain Denam attacked, one entire side of his body was encased in red lyrium, his left hand one large lump of the stuff which he swung like a flail. They were nearly out of potions by the time he finally fell.

Once the trebuchet was in position facing the mountain behind the town and he was ready to fire it, Alistair sent the others away. There was no reason for them to die too. Cassandra promised to signal once they were clear.

The dragon strafed the area with fire as they fled back to the Chantry and the Elder One walked out of the flames. The dragon landed behind Alistair, trapping him between them. No matter, he hadn’t expected to survive this, wanted their attention focused on him. Alistair forced himself to his feet, meeting the creature’s gaze defiantly.

“Pretender,” snarled the Elder One, his face twisted with scars. “You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

Alistair squared his shoulders, facing him fully. “I’m not afraid of you, darkspawn.”

There was a flicker of surprise across the creature’s face then he smiled cruelly. “A mortal like yourself cannot understand. Know me, what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus.”

Alistair frowned; he didn’t understand what the creature meant but he had heard plenty about Corypheus from Varric. Wasn’t Hawke supposed to have killed him? Obviously not well enough. What was it with enemies who refused to die? All he needed now was for the dragon to actually be Flemeth and his life would be complete.

Corypheus continued, clearly not expecting a reply. “You will kneel,” he demanded.

“I will never kneel to you,” Alistair said. This Elder One was indeed an ancient darkspawn as he had suspected, he could sense the crackle as taint called to taint. Just like the Architect, Corypheus was one of the original Magisters who had entered the Golden City and tainted it but he would be defeated the same. If only Kallian had explained better how she had managed it.

“You will always resist,” Corypheus said dismissively. “It matters not.” He held up a hand, displaying an intricately patterned metal orb, which began to glow with magical energy. “I am here for the Anchor. The process for removing it begins now.”. He twisted his hand and flung the spell energy at Alistair.

He didn’t have time to call on his Templar energies so he tried to dodge the bolt but it curled back towards him. As it connected the mark glowed with a bright light and pain knifed through his hand, up his arm. It felt like he’d put his hand into a fire or maybe a hailstorm as the energy sparked across his skin and he couldn’t hardly bite back the cry of pain which wanted to escape.

“This is your fault, ‘Herald,’” Corypheus sneered. “You interrupted a ritual years in the planning and, instead of dying, you stole its purpose.”

Even knowing he wouldn’t live to tell anyone, it was gratifying to know he had thwarted a greater plot as the Conclave, even if the consequences had still been devastating, and he was glad to have the confirmation it had indeed been darkspawn he had sensed at the Conclave.

Corypheus gestured again, the agony growing as the spell energy was renewed. “I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched,' what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.”

Alistair gasped, cradling his marked hand against his chest as though it would help resist the magical assault. “You think I’m afraid of you? I’ve fought and killed darkspawn bigger and uglier than you. Dragons too,” he forced out, even as he could feel its breath on the back of his neck. The pain intensified with another gesture and he curled in on himself, refusing to give him the satisfaction of crying out. It couldn’t be much longer now, surely, he just had to wait for the signal.

“You understand so little,” Corypheus jeered, “even as you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!”

Alistair spat out blood at him from where he had bitten through his lip. “I understand more than you know.” If the Breach had been the Elder One’s plan it hadn’t worked how he had hoped and it would be harder to replicate, with the Temple of Sacred Ashes now destroyed.

Corypheus stepped closely, towered above him, before he grabbed him by the hand and lifted him up until the tips of his toes barely scratched the ground. “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person,” he said, his face mere inches from Alistair’s own.

“And look how well that turned out for you both,” Alistair goaded him. “Dumat dead for centuries and you locked in a prison.”

The ancient darkspawn shook him like an unruly child, lifting him higher off the ground. Alistair gasped at the pain in his shoulder, feeling like it would dislocate. “For a thousand years I was confused,” Corypheus said. “No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this Blighted world.”

Alistair felt a moment of doubt at the last, a part of him wondering what if the darkspawn magister genuinely wanted to undo his mistakes, but he knew whatever Corypheus had planned it would be for his own benefit and not the rest of the world.

“Beg that I succeed,” Corypheus finished, “for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!”

“Some gods never lived in that Golden City,” Alistair spat out, refusing to let him have the last word and thinking of the Dalish’s tales. He believed it the Maker, in Andraste, but anything he could say to hold the creature’s attention was worth it.

Corypheus shook him a final time, before tossing him aside. He connected with some solid surface and slid down it onto the cold ground. Alistair shook his head, trying to focus before the pain began again, but the darkspawn was instead rambling about the Anchor being spoilt. 

He stopped listening to his monologue as he realised it was the trebuchet he was leant against and then he saw a distant flare. The Inquisition had reached the tree line, he had bought them enough time.

Alistair forced himself to his feet, pushing away the pain; it would be over soon. He reached for the release and smiled at Corypheus saying, “In death, sacrifice,” as he fired the trebuchet. The ground beneath him gave way as Haven was consumed by the ensuing avalanche, and the last thing he remembered was falling.

***

Fiona had joined with the Inquisition forces to repel the invaders. She knew well what Templars were capable of, even if she had never encountered their red lyrium infused forms before. She had walked amongst the mages, reassuring them they were not alone, reminding them of the bright future they were fighting for, even if she couldn’t see it herself right now.

The battle had been frantic but at least it was easy to tell friend from foe when the enemy looked so obviously wrong. A smite had knocked the breath out of her, and most of her mana, but before she could react the Templar was caught up in another mage’s blizzard. “It would be a shame if anything were to happen to you, my dear,” First Enchanter Vivienne had said, as she swept past without helping her to her feet but Fiona merely gritted her teeth. She had met plenty of mages like Vivienne before, indoctrinated to prefer a gilded cage to freedom and she pitied the woman.

When the dragon came she remembered the fight in the Deep Roads, how Duncan had ridden on its back. She might be more experienced in magic now but she was probably as tired, having expended a great deal of magical energy on the Breach.

They made it to the Chantry, and she tried to collect all the free mages together, but there were too many people milling around in too small a space and she couldn’t be certain she had found everyone; each time she tried to count, someone else had shifted. Several of them were walking wounded, but there were barely enough potions to save the critically injured and there were no pure spirit healers amongst them. As tired as she was, she dared not attempt to contact any spirits there with the Veil so thin.

The news passed through the crowd that there was a secret passage, they were evacuating Haven and she looked around, trying to find Alistair. She had seen him come into the Chantry just before the doors were closed but now couldn't spot him.

The crowd around the doors thinned as most pushed towards the escape route and Fiona was caught in the tow, trying to move against the flow of people but she couldn’t leave until she knew Alistair was safe.

"Grand Enchanter, we have to go," Linnea said, somehow staying at her side. “The mages need you to lead them.”

She shook her head distractedly. "Have you seen the Herald?" 

"I'm sure he's fine,” they said dismissively. 

Fiona had thought the other mage knew of her relationship to Alistair, though it wasn’t generally known to the Inquisition, but now she wondered. “I need to find him,” she said, still looking around.

“You know he’s going to want to stay at the rear,” Linnea said. “We have to leave now."

"Go on without me,” she told them. “I will catch you up."

She searched through the thinning crowd, increasingly panicky when she couldn’t find her son, until she bumped into Commander Cullen who looked stern as he said, "Grand Enchanter, you can't stay here."

"I was looking for Alistair?" she said, aware of the quaver in her voice. She wouldn’t normally let the ex-Templar intimidate her but Alistair’s absence had her off-balance already. He had to be here somewhere.

"He went to face the Elder One," Cullen said, frowning. It was clear he didn’t understand why she was concerned.

Fiona looked up at him uncomprehendingly. She hadn’t even been aware the Elder One was present and surely Alistair wouldn’t have left without saying anything.

There was a knocking on the door and when the remaining guards raised the bars, Seeker Cassandra and the giant Qunari stumbled through but Alistair wasn't with them. 

“Where is he?” she asked, almost pleading.

The Qunari looked sympathetic as he told her, “The Herald stayed to trigger the avalanche.”

No, she couldn't lose him. The world seemed to drop away and she could feel spirits pressing at her. /Yes, give into it./ She sunk to the ground, barely aware of what was going on around her. 

When she failed to respond, she found herself picked up and carried down the passageway over the Qunari’s broad shoulder. She tried repeatedly to pull herself together and then she would think again on her child, alone, facing a terrible enemy, and voices echoed in her head, promising her she could save him, or avenge it.

They suddenly came out into the cold mountain air, snow swirling on the wind, but Fiona hardly felt it. The Qunari put her back on her feet and she swayed, almost falling face first into the snow, then giving up and dropping to her knees, keening with her pain.

"What's the matter with her?" she heard someone ask distantly.

"Alistair..." was the only thing she could manage to say but even that drained her remaining energy. It was becoming hard to breathe through the heavy weight in her chest; perhaps it was true that it was possible to die of a broken heart.

The Orlesian accent in her ear was familiar and it took her a moment to realise it was Sister Leliana. "Alistair is a fighter. If anyone can survive this, it will be him."

Fiona wanted to believe it but she couldn’t; life had never been that fair to her.

"Why does she care?" another onlooker commented snidely.

"He was her son," Leliana told them. Fiona could hardly bring herself to care about her secret being revealed now, what did it matter anymore?

The mood in their temporary camp was subdued and when they pushed on Fiona struggled to find the strength to keep up. Only the thought of the grandson she had never met, who deserved to know what had happened, kept her going, who else knew to tell them?

The Warden, Blackwall, walked at her side. When she tried to tell him to let her be, he insisted Alistair had said she was a Warden, which meant they looked out for each other. "It is the least I can do," he said.

When his strength was needed at the front to push through drifts, Solas walked with her or the newcomer, Cole. They had less to say, but she preferred the silence.

She couldn't allow herself to sleep, demons haunted her with offers of bringing him back, of what she could do to those who had abandoned him and she wasn't sure she was strong enough to resist them, but eventually she must have dozed as she awakened suddenly to find Solas leaning over her.

She could hear shouting from the rear and thought at first they must be under attack until she realised it was excitement not panic in their tones. She forced herself to pay attention to what the other mage was saying.

"They found him. The Herald, Alistair, the scouts found him. He's alive, they're bringing him here."

Was this a dream? Was he another demon sent to try her? But something in the other mage’s eyes told her this was real and besides the Fade was never this cold. Fiona tried to stand in a rush, nearly blacking out as the strain finally hit her. She felt dizzy with relief as Solas helped her slowly make her way to the makeshift shelter set up for the healers.

***

After a long torturous trek through the snow and ice, Alistair had passed out within sight of the camp. He woke up the next time to find Fiona asleep beside him despite the argument going on only feet away as Cassandra and Cullen bickered over their next step.

Mother Giselle came by with fresh poultices for his frostbitten fingers and toes, seeming unperturbed by the discussions. She was careful not to disturb Fiona and he was grateful; the events of the last few days had taken a heavy toll on her.

“I see I should have stayed away longer,” he joked, nodding his head at the two warriors, but the cleric shook her head.

“We have seen our defender stand... and fall,” she explained. “And now we have seen him return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear.”

Alistair shook off her comments. “That's ridiculous. I just did what needed to be done and got lucky.” He almost wished he could tell them how ‘miraculously’ he had survived the Archdemon, even the version the Wardens had accepted, but both involved too much of other people's secrets.

“Is it so hard to accept what others believe?” Mother Giselle gave him a searching look.

“We need more than faith,” he muttered. Then “I should probably try to calm matters,” though he was reluctant to leave the warm hollow under the blankets.

“And let your mother wake to find you gone?” the woman asked.

Was that public knowledge now or had Fiona merely confided in her? Still, it was a good excuse to delay a little longer. “I suppose they don't need me now anyway. Corypheus is a real, physical threat, something people can unite against.”

The look Mother Giselle gave him this time suggested she didn’t think much of his intelligence but before he could protest she stepped towards the campfire and started singing “The Dawn Will Come.” It was a well-known hymn but her meaning was clear, especially as one by one the others joined in until nearly the whole camp was singing.

It also woke Fiona, who would barely let him out of her sight. Alistair resolved to stay out of any more danger; with the Breach closed and Corypheus probably assuming him dead, the Inquisition should have no further need of him.

Solas pulled him and Fiona aside to speak privately, explaining the orb Corypheus wielded was of elven origin and that he was concerned how people would react on learning of it.

Alistair could appreciate his concern, but how he knew about it was another matter.

Solas explained he had seen such things in the Fade, foci used to channel ancient magics, but it seemed there was more he wasn't saying.

Still, he didn't want elves to be made a target any more than Solas did, was more than happy to keep such knowledge a secret. Maybe not from Leliana though, and Josephine should probably be made aware so she wasn't blindsided if it was later revealed.

Solas had a substantial distraction in mind though, in the shape of a possible base for the Inquisition, an ancient Avaar stronghold which he had again ‘seen in the Fade.’

When they reached Skyhold it seemed incredible that a fortress of this size could have been hidden for so long but it was in poor condition. Though most of the stone structure was sound, including the outer walls, many of the buildings had no roofs or holes in their ceilings and much of the internal woodwork was damaged. It would take a lot of work to make it habitable, especially if they planned on staying here in the long-term. 

Alistair kept telling himself it didn’t matter to him, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to tell the war council he would be leaving. Fiona seemed happy to stay and he spotted Connor, looking almost happy, always in the company of Dorian or The Iron Bull. As they settled in, sending out scouts and messengers to bring in much needed supplies, Alistair spotted the advisors deep in conversation.

Cassandra pulled him aside to talk about the latest arrivals; people were coming from nearby settlements to see the Inquisition but she was concerned the Elder One would equally be able to find them and learn that Alistair had survived. Skyhold was more defensible than Haven but it wouldn't be enough.

At this point, Alistair was beginning to admit to himself he wasn’t going anywhere so he just shrugged. “It's nothing new to have someone want me dead,” Alistair said. “Though it makes a change for out to be for something I actually did.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, she never appreciated his sense of humour. “The Anchor has power,” she replied, “but it's not why you're still standing here.”

Alistair brushed aside her compliments, it always made him feel uncomfortable after growing up always hearing how worthless he was. He hadn't done anything anyone else wouldn't have done in the situation, what choice had he had?

The Seeker refused to let him evade though. “You are that creature’s rival because of what /you/ did,” she insisted. “And we know it. All of us.”

He realised when he saw Leliana waiting with a sword that they had some kind of public ceremony in mind and baulked. “Look, it was no big deal. After killing an Archdemon, Corypheus seemed pretty tame.”

Cassandra’s steely gaze pinned him as she continued as though he hasn't spoken. “The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who had /already/ been leading it.”

It was worse than he had imagined. “No, no way,” he held his hands up, backing away from them but out of the corner of his eye he saw a crowd gathering in the courtyard below. They had manoeuvred him into a position where he would have to refuse publicly; had they forgotten he had done just that before the Landsmeet? Then again the Inquisition was different. “I'm not leadership material,” he protested. “Just ask Kallian. Or Anora. I never wanted this kind of responsibility.”

But again Cassandra had him outdone. "There would be no Inquisition without you," she said firmly. "How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide."

Gritting his teeth, Alistair held her gaze. His mind raced, trying to find a way out, even as the courtyard filled up. Leliana proffered the sword at him again and he let out a deep sigh. He didn't want to think about how Anora would react when she heard but he imagined Kallian and Morrigan would both laugh themselves sick.

Reluctantly he took the sword from Leliana’s outstretched hands. It was a beautiful weapon, well-balanced and the perfect length. He stepped forward to see the crowd fully, Cullen alongside Josephine right there at the front, despite their previous disagreements.

He caught sight of Fiona standing near the back of the courtyard, Connor at her side. “I'll stand for what's right,” he warned them but Leliana's only smiled approvingly.

Cassandra looked out into the crowd, asking in a loud, clear voice, “Have the people been told?”

Josephine answered with a beaming smile.

The Seeker continued, “And will they follow?”

Cullen drew his sword in answer, turning to the crowd. “Inquisition! Will you follow?”

The answering cheers were almost deafening and Alistair felt overwhelmed by their support. He might not want this but he swore then and there he would be the best job he could.

“Your leader!” Cullen declared. “Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!”

Alistair lofted the sword high, despite his misgivings, forcing himself to ignore the churning of his stomach as the crowd cheered him again.


	14. Chapter 14

After the ceremony, the council pulled him aside, officially to discuss tactics. Alistair had supposed that nothing would change, that he would be a figurehead for them to continue as before but, instead, it seemed they were immediately looking to him for guidance.

Josephine started with, "So, what do you believe we should do next, Inquisitor?"

Alistair flinched in alarm. "Why are you asking me? I told you, I'm no good at this leadership thing."

"On the contrary, you've already proved your instincts correct," Cullen said. "You said we should deal with the mages, and you were right, I could never have imagined the Templars would resort to... to that."

For once, Alistair actually felt sympathy for Cullen. He thought he might have known some of the Templars who had attacked, even warped by the red lyrium growths they were still recognisable. Cullen must have known many more, and hadn't he mentioned that he recognised the man standing beside Corypheus when they had first caught sight of him?

Josephine bemoaned that they knew nothing about Corypheus except his desire for the mark and though Alistair hesitated, he knew he couldn't in good conscience hide behind the excuse of Warden secrets to keep this information from them. “That's not entirely true,” he admitted.

"What do you mean?" Leliana asked. "Have you remembered something from the Conclave?"

"No, this is something I heard from the Wardens," Alistair said; he didn't want to drop Varric in it if he could avoid it. "Corypheus was found trapped in a Warden prison near Kirkwall. There were some disturbances and the group investigating believed they'd killed him. It looks like they were wrong."

"Who was this group? Were they with the Wardens who've disappeared?" Leliana asked.

Alistair wasn't sure he could give an answer Leliana would be satisfied with but fortunately it turned out Varric had been listening outside the door. The dwarf gave them his most charming smile. "Your discretion is appreciated, but unnecessary," he said. "I had no idea this Elder One would turn out to be Corypheus but I guess I could tell you a few stories. Still, the Inquisitor here has heard it all before, so I'll leave it to him to share." He turned back to Alistair, "And when you're done, I have a friend who'd like to speak to you about Corypheus, amongst other things."

With that, Varric headed off again and Josephine shook her head. "If it's who I think it is, Cassandra is going to kill him."

It would be Hawke then, Alistair knew the Seeker had been trying to find her as well as Kallian. As much as he might have wished for someone else to bear the mantle of the Inquisitor, there was no guarantee they wouldn't have been killed in the explosion if they'd been there and he wouldn't wish the weirdness of the mark on anyone.

He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. His friends and family were all safe and he would do his best to keep them that way. “Corypheus told me he wants to restore Tevinter," he said instead. "Do you think this is a precursor to war with the Imperium?” He hadn’t seen any evidence of such whilst he had been in Tevinter but that was several years ago now and there had been those cultists.

Cullen nodded, confirming he wasn’t alone in his suspicions. “I had considered it but I get the feeling we’re dealing with extremists, not the vanguard of a true invasion.”

It was a point of view Josephine also agreed with. "Tevinter is hardly the great Empire Corypheus remembers," she pointed out.

Leliana reminded them they had an advantage, since they knew what Corypheus intended to do next. “In the strange future you experienced," she said, "Empress Celene had been assassinated.”

Alistair remembered how he had felt on learning that for the first time. He couldn’t care less for the Empress herself but Morrigan and Kieran were at her court and he would take no chances with their safety.

Before he could respond to that Cullen reminded them Corypheus had also bolstered his army with demons in that future. Preventing Celene's death wouldn't be the end of it and they would still have to face down Corypheus and his dragon, even if it didn't turn out to be an Archdemon, again.

Alistair gave Varric time to fetch his mystery guest, then was finally able to make his excuses, that needed time to think it all over before he could make any decisions. He headed up to the battlements and found the dwarf alone, but it turned out Hawke just wanted to make an entrance.

She was shorter than he was expecting and fairly slight, not much taller than Kallian he would wager, when all Varric's tales had made her sound larger than life. Her coloration hinted at some Chasind blood, reminding him a little of Morrigan, though her hair was fairer and cut short, rather than worn up. Alistair was surprised she had come alone, unless her companion or companions were keeping an even lower profile. 

“Inquisitor, meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall,” Varric announced.

“Though I don’t use that title much anymore,” she said, rolling her eyes at the dwarf.

“Hawke, The Inquisitor,” Varric continued, as though she hadn’t spoken. “I thought you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus.”

Alistair couldn’t avoid wincing at the title, Herald had been bad enough. Then again, he’d had a lucky escape once from getting titled Hero of Ferelden so he imagined Kallian would have little sympathy when she heard.

“I’m not sure how much advice a Warden needs,” Hawke said. “Especially one who has already killed an Archdemon.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Alistair said, shrugging. “Besides, I had a lot of help then.”

Alistair was glad to make the acquaintance of one he’d heard so much about, though Hawke seemed somewhat tongue-tied with him to begin with, a side effect of having come from Lothering and experienced the Blight for herself but that soon went.

They talked about the pressure of other people’s expectations and Alistair found himself enjoying having someone else around who actually had a decent sense of humour. Finally the conversation came back around to Corypheus. “You know he was able to influence the minds of the Wardens before?” Varric said.

Alistair nodded. “So, I’d heard. I didn’t notice anything though and if he was going to try something surely he would have done it in Haven?”

Hawke shrugged. “Perhaps it takes time to work? Or it might have been an effect of the prison, I guess? Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She looked like she wanted to say something else but hesitated.

Guessing it was something to do with Anders, who’d been the Warden there with her, Alistair turned away to give her a moment of privacy and found Cole sitting on the opposite wall.

“He lit the spark which started it all,” the boy said. “Was it worth it? Was it really justice?”

Hawke spun round, meeting Alistair’s gaze. He started to apologise for Cole, he couldn’t blame Hawke for not wanting to discuss Anders. Except she didn’t give him a chance to speaking as she stepped towards Cole. “What was that? How did you know about Justice? Who are you?”

Alistair wished he understood how Cole worked but for now he just need to relieve the tension. “This is Cole,” he said. “He’s a little strange, but he’s harmless.” He smiled encouragingly at the boy, hoping it was true.

“Hurting, hating. Why did he do it? Why couldn’t he see?”

“That’s enough, Cole,” he snapped, harsher than he had intended. Cole bit his lip, the brim of his hat slipped down to cover his entire face. Alistair turned to glance at Hawke and by the time he looked back the boy was gone.

Hawke shook her head to clear it. “I’ve heard the Wardens have disappeared?” she said, as though nothing had just happened. “If that’s true, they could have fallen under his influence again.”

Given that Hawke’s sister and one of her closest friends were both Wardens, Alistair could appreciate her concern but he was sure they could look after themselves. Besides, the last he heard Kallian was far away to the west, surely Corypheus couldn’t reach her there?

“I’ve got a friend in the Wardens,” Hawke continued, going on to explain how this Stroud had been investigating something for her and had shared some of his concerns about corruption within the Wardens.

Alistair had met a Stroud some years back, an Orlesian noble by birth, who’d run afoul of their politics. They hadn’t got on especially well but he remembered the man being an expert swordsman. He could be a useful ally for the Inquisition.

“Corypheus would definitely quality as corruption in the ranks,” Varric said. “Did your friend vanish with them.”

“No," Hawke shook her head. "He told me he’d be hiding in an old smuggler’s cave near Crestwood.”

It was definitely worth checking out but less urgently than matters in Orlais. lf the Wardens had vanished it was either to a keep or the Deep Roads and they weren't bothering anyone else there. In the dark future he had seen, it had been Celene's assassination which had set off a series of events and Alistair could well imagine how her death would impact on the elves of Halamshiral, whether they were involved or not.

Still he had to admit he was curious. "Can I ask what Stroud was investigating for you?"

“The Templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium,” she explained. “It was red. I’d hoped the Wardens could tell me more.”

They certainly could, but whether they would Alistair didn’t know. Then again, if they had disappeared no-one would know if he spilled a few secrets himself. “If he can’t, I have a few thoughts on that subject.”

"I don't suppose it's a priority now," Hawke said. "Not with the Wardens disappearing like that. Unless they're related?"

Alistair frowned. “I doubt it." If red lyrium was Blighted, as he believed, the Wardens were the one group who wouldn't be affected by it. "Still, it's good to know there are more Wardens who haven't disappeared. Did Stroud say if he'd be able to wait around long? It'd be good to speak to him but the missing Wardens aren't exactly top of our list of concerns."

"At least a few weeks," said Hawke. "I didn't know how long it would take me to find you."

That would give them some time to investigate the situation in Orlais and hopefully they would find a way to interfere with Corypheus' plans. "Will you be staying?” he asked.

Hawke nodded. “Corypheus is my responsibility. I failed to kill him before, I won’t fail a second time.”

“We will all do our best to achieve that,” he told her.

Varric said he would speak to Josephine to arrange quarters for her to stay and Alistair offered to assist with passing a message to Bethany. He needed to get Leliana to contact Kallian anyway.

Alistair know he should talk to the war council about the Wardens but he didn't want to get into a discussion about all the secrets he was keeping from them. Instead he explored Skyhold and caught up with his companions but he couldn't seem to avoid Cole. They would be in the middle of a conversation when the younger man would appear, drop some vaguely cryptic statement and disappear again as soon as he looked away.

Still, if Cole's words were to be believed, he was learning a lot about his new friends this way, even if it wasn’t always things they wanted him to know.

The mystery became clearer when he came across Cassandra, Vivienne and Solas arguing over Cole whilst the object of the discussion himself was sat not far away.

They were quick to share their concerns about Cole’s strange behaviour and Solas appeared to believe he was dispensing great wisdom when he told him, “It seems Cole is a spirit.”

Alistair had begun to suspect something of that sort but he wasn’t about to judge. He didn’t get a chance to respond though before Vivienne interjected, “It is a demon.”

“If you prefer,” Solas replied calmly. “Though the truth is somewhat more complex.”

“What is he a spirit of?” Alistair asked, before they could continue. All three of them stared at him in surprise and he felt a moment of victory that he had managed to derail them. “That's how spirits work, isn’t it? They represent virtues? He certainly doesn’t look like any demon I’ve encountered before.” It was pretty rare for someone possessed by a demon not to turn instantly into an abomination but even where they didn’t, like Connor, the sense of wrongness around them was undeniable. Cole had no such aura, just like Wynne hadn't most of the time.

Vivienne was the first to recover. “And what if you’re wrong? How many lives will this demon later claim?”

Apparently ignoring her, Solas replied, “In fact, his nature is not so easily defined.”

“Speak plainly, Solas,” Cassandra demanded.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair noticed Cullen pacing nearby, keeping people from approaching Cole. He was almost impressed at his restraint; given what the former Templar had suffered at the whim of demons, Alistair would have thought their commander would be the first to draw his weapon. Apparently he really had learnt.

“Demons normally enter this world by possessing something,” Solas explained. Alistair nodded, sadly very familiar with that fact, as the mage continued, “In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous.”

“So is Cole possessed?” Cassandra asked.

Surely she could have checked that for herself? Seekers possessed many of the same abilities as Templars. Unless she didn’t want to risk provoking him whilst he wasn’t causing any active harm?

“No,” Solas replied. “He has possessed nothing and noone and yet he appears human in all respects. Cole is unique, Inquisitor. More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so.”

“Absolutely,” Alistair said. “I have no intention of doing anything else.” He had expected an argument, from Vivienne at least, if not Cassandra as well. Instead Cassandra visibly controlled her temper and stood down and Vivienne followed her lead. Perhaps there was some benefit to this Inquisitor business, though he hoped fervently that they were submitting because they saw Solas’ point, not merely because they were following him. He didn’t want that level of responsibility; what if he was wrong?

Still, they left him to speak with Cole alone.

***

Cole had been accustomed to passing unnoticed, to being forgotten, but somehow it didn't seem to work on the Inquisitor.

The first time was with the Champion. She was hurting, betrayed but he could see the same thought in both their minds. They were both surprised when he said it but the Inquisitor smiled at him. He liked that smile, even though the Inquisitor wasn't always seeing him alone. He wanted to meet the other boy, who Cole apparently reminded him of and made him feel happy and worried. Still, the Hawk didn't seem happy so he made her forget.

There was so much hurting here, he was sure this was the right place for him to be, but it was hard to work out who to help and how. Vivienne didn't like him, sharp with fear. She tried to hurt him so he would become the thing she was afraid of but Solas defended him. 

There was something strange about Solas. The elf was not like him but he was different. He looked into the Fade too much for Cole's comfort, certain he would see through him. He tried to stay away but Solas' thoughts were so clear, so familiar, they kept drawing him back. Solas' hurts were all old and faded, not sharp like so many others.

The Seeker wasn't afraid but she didn't trust him, even though she had met Faith before. She made the people around her feel less afraid too even when she didn’t seem to know she was doing it but now she was watching him, judging, remembering.

The Inquisitor pulled him aside after that and Cole tried to explain. He knew the Inquisitor wouldn't be afraid of him, he'd cared about people who had had spirits in them before. He tried to show how he could help but it made the man sad when he offered to give the soldier the merciful death he wanted. He agreed but it hurt him, how could that be right? How was he supposed to stop people hurting without hurting others himself? Wasn't that where he had gone wrong at the White Spire?

He liked to be up high where he could hear everyone but not get caught up in them and the Spymaster’s tower was good for that. The ravens weren't complicated and he didn’t bother them. Leliana had a lot of hurt, tangled up with the Inquisitor and the people here, but being around others made it better. Cole arranged for people to carry messages to her and when they arrived they couldn't remember why they'd come but it seemed to work.

It didn’t help when the Templar who didn’t want to be one anymore came to visit her, though the worse of his hurt was in his body. The blue hunger; Cullen didn't want it but he craved it and it hurt her, though not as much as it hurt the Seeker. Cole tried to tell her the hurting wasn't her fault, she always tried to help but he ended up saying too much.

Josephine was always busy, never alone. It was harder not to be seen there, to make more people forget him but she always knew the right thing to say. Cole tried to listen, to learn, but he always got distracted by their hurting, especially when what they were saying wasn’t what they were feeling. He couldn’t work out how Josephine managed to untangle them all without being able to see their thoughts but she didn’t seem to appreciate his help.

He liked spending time around The Iron Bull. His thoughts were simple and if Cole spoke them out loud, the Qunari just assumed he also thought Dorian had a fine backside. Not that Cole understood why that was so important but Bull definitely spent a lot of time thinking about it. He was sure Bull could stop Dorian hurting he couldn't think he was wrong if there were others who were the same.

Dorian was more difficult. The mage seemed to recognise there was something unusual about him and so Cole had to be more careful. The Tevinter spent a lot of time angry with his homeland and confused about how the things he had always been told conflicted with the tales being spread about Corypheus.

Cole had thought he was helping when the Inquisitor came by and he told Dorian how Corypheus wasn’t the only Magister who was a darkspawn but it made Dorian more twisted up inside and the Inquisitor didn’t seem to like telling the story about the Architect. Cole suggested Dorian could ask Fiona instead but that made the Inquisitor even more unhappy and he had to undo the whole conversation. Except he couldn't quite do it; Dorian forgot but the Inquisitor just seemed confused.

Fiona spent a lot of time in the library too but she never seemed to be in the same place as Dorian. She was kind to Cole, though she kept giving him searching looks as though there was something familiar about him and she was trying to work out what it was. He wished he didn't make her sad, thinking about Wynne, or about the Inquisitor as a child. She was the first person to try to help him by introducing him to Connor Guerrin so he would have a friend his own age, though it eased some of her hurt too; about making children fight and how young he seemed to be.

Connor was suspicious too and Cole could feel how his fear was hurting him. “I’m not like her,” he tried to tell him. It didn't help so he made him forget and then he had to start over again. The Inquisitor wanted Connor to be happy so Cole wanted to be his friend but he didn't know how. Still, he seemed to be less sad when he was around other people so Cole sat at his side watching the soldiers practice and tried to keep the words inside.

Varric helped with that. He was always thinking of stories, and when the Champion was there the stories were happy ones. Sometimes he thought about old hurts but he was quiet inside with it. He seemed to understand Cole better than anyone else, called him ‘kid’ which was nice and didn’t expect anything from him.

Sera was the opposite; too sharp, her thoughts always tangled, hidden even from herself. He had watched her, trying to work it out, but she threatened to shoot arrows at him and called him creepy.

The other Grey Warden was welcoming. Cole liked to sit near him while he was carving though he preferred not to be seen. Blackwall's thoughts were calmer than many others, the Inquisitor had helped push some of the hurt away, but the singing was strange. The Inquisitor's mind was the same but quieter and they both felt wrong. Cole couldn't place it though, it wasn't coming from where they were or from the Fade.

Still, Cole wanted to stop the Elder One and he could feel that thread connecting everyone here so he knew he was in the right place. 

***

Alistair found himself walking in Haven at Solas’ side. Something about it niggled at him, he couldn’t remember how they’d got there and hadn’t Haven been destroyed by the avalanche he’d triggered after speaking to Corypheus?

Solas merely smiled cryptically as he told Alistair Haven would always be important to him, which wasn’t an answer.

Then they were in the cells and Solas told him what those initial days after the explosion at the Conclave had been like for him. Alistair already knew the mage had examined the mark, helped stabilise him, and he wasn’t surprised Cassandra had threatened him, though he hoped she had reconsidered her opinion on the elven apostate by now.

He wanted to kick himself when Solas said they were in the Fade, he should have realised he was dreaming, but he hadn’t known Solas could get into other people’s dreams.

He awoke with a start and made his way to find Solas. Part of him hoped he had been just literally dreaming, that Solas would laugh at the suggestion but he doubted that was going to be the case.

Indeed Solas was already up, working in the tower room he had claimed as his own, and he looked up knowingly as Alistair entered saying, “Sleep well?”

It had been real then. “I didn’t think I’d be high on your list of people to be sharing dreams with,” he said, trying to make a joke of it.

“I had no idea the Anchor would allow you to dream with such focus,” Solas replied, not quite rising to his bait. “It is remarkable.”

Remarkable was one word for it. “Focus?” Alistair asked. “Do I need to worry about less friendly visitors turning up in my dreams?”

Solas raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Worried you will turn into a mage? Or an abomination?”

Alistair shrugged. “I’m the son of a mage and the father of one, it wouldn’t be so strange. Besides I’ve even heard some people suggest Templar abilities are a sign of latent magic, how else would they be able to tolerate lyrium?”

Solas’ eyes narrowed in interest and Alistair realised too late what he had given away. “I wasn’t aware you had a child.”

There was a note of something more than curiosity in his tone that Alistair didn’t quite appreciate. “I don’t want him caught up in this unnecessarily,” he explained, though he knew it was only a matter of time. “But still, you know plenty about spirits. Are they likely to be attracted to the Anchor when I’m dreaming?”

“I don’t believe so,” Solas said.

“That’s not as reassuring as I’d hoped,” Alistair told him when he didn’t elaborate any further.

Solas smiled approvingly. “I’m sure you will prove yourself more than up to the challenge, if I am wrong.”

That still didn’t help. He would have to find a way to bring the matter up with Fiona; hopefully she would be able to offer more practical assistance, though he half-expected she would be more interested in hearing about Solas’ unexpected ability.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so this chapter really kicked my ass... Hopefully the next one will be back on schedule though - it's about 80% written.

Now they were settled at Skyhold, Alistair started heading out back to the Hinterlands, down to the Fallow Mire and even into Orlais. There was plenty to keep him occupied and it gave him the opportunity to get used to fighting alongside more of his new allies.

At Cassandra’s request he spent some time following up people the Seekers had been targeting before they disappeared, apostate mages and Templars, though he insisted on being certain of their guilt for himself before taking any action against them.

Dorian had shared information on some small groups of Venatori he had been following personally and the Inquisition scouts had been able to use his leads to track down their locations. Even Varric had got in on the missions, asking him to help track down sources of red lyrium.

Josephine told Alistair she was making inquiries with the Imperial Court so they could deal with the threat against the Empress as soon as possible. Apparently the political situation in Orlais was already unstable and they couldn’t risk it getting worse. 

Cullen huffed that the Orlesians liked it that way and Alistair shared a commiserating look with him, as a fellow Fereldan. He recalled Teagan discussing the civil war in Orlais but it hadn't seemed very relevant at the time, now he wished he had paid more attention.

Leliana cut them off before they could say anything they would regret and Alistair bit his tongue not to point out that most countries wouldn’t consider death in the service of politics to be a point of honour. Fiona wouldn’t appreciate him defaming all Orlesians either, it wasn’t as though the nobles had done her people any favours with their politics, quite the opposite, hadn't they burnt down half of Halamshiral just last year.

Josephine cautioned him that the Orlesian court’s disapproval could be disastrous and Alistair had to laugh. “The Orlesian nobles are going to disapprove of me for breathing - the son of an elven mage and a King of Ferelden…”

“But they’ll welcome you despite it so long as you play along," she said. "Besides, your relationship to Grand Enchanter Fiona is not exactly public knowledge.”

He raised an eyebrow. "How did you manage that?" Fiona had told him how Leliana had revealed it during the escape from Haven; even Mother Giselle knew.

"I made a point of explaining how disappointed I would be if the story were to spread further,” Leliana said and Alistair could well imagine how intimidating she had appeared.

"The news will get out in time,” Josephine said, “but hopefully we will be more established by then and there will be little anyone can do with the information.”

“And in the meantime we need to prevent Empress Celene’s assassination,” Cullen said, bringing them back to their original subject.

Alistair nodded reluctantly. “Not that I especially care about Celene herself but we can’t let innocent people suffer.”

Josephine explained Celene will be holding a Grand Masquerade as a cover for peace talks. “Every power in Orlais will be there,” she says. “It’s the perfect place for an assassin to hide.”

Indeed, Alistair thought he remembers Zevran telling a story about infiltrating a masked ball. On one hand, it sounds like the last place on Thedas he would want to be, on the other, the thought of trying to find Morrigan at such an event is strangely tempting. “So I suppose we need to be there too?” he asked, trying to sound reluctant.

Their ambassador made little effort to hide her satisfaction. “I’ll arrange for an invitation at your discretion, Inquisitor.”

Alistair repressed a shudder; he was going to have to get used to the title, preferably before any Orlesian nobles found out how uncomfortable it made him. The only bright spot in the plan was the thought of Lady Isolde’s horrified expression if she ever heard about it.

The conversation turned to the myriad small missions which took up much of their time. Bull’s Chargers had returned from their mission to Therinfal Redoubt, having avoided the Templar army, and reported signs of demonic activity. Krem had offered their services to track down the demon, which didn’t seem to have followed the same route as the army and they agreed it would save the Inquisition’s forces a difficult task.

Then there was an arcanist to be brought safely to Skyhold; apparently they were causing some issues but Leliana was certain her agents could escort them quietly through. Sera had passed on a tip about a land squabble between some nobles in Verchiel which was causing problems for the ordinary people stuck in the middle of it. She had asked if he could get the Inquisition to march through town to spook the nobles so they would deal with each other directly and Cullen agreed they could spare enough troops to make an impression.

One of the duties of the Inquisitor was apparently to judge prisoners and Alistair was glad Leliana gave him a warning before he was asked to sit in judgment for the first time, on Gereon Alexius, who had been brought to Skyhold with them as a prisoner. Tevinter had stripped him of his titles and Ferelden had apparently conceded jurisdiction to the Inquisition, which presumably meant Anora didn’t know what to do with the former Magister either and thought he should have to deal with him.

Imprisoning him wouldn't achieve much and, despite Cullen's slightly sarcastic commentary, sentencing him to serve the Inquisition would hardly be the same as letting the former Circle mages wander freely, since they had done nothing deserving of imprisonment. Vivienne confirmed his opinion of her by suggesting making him Tranquil and, though he couldn't deny it felt like a fitting punishment, he remembered how Jowan had thanked Eamon when he had sentenced him to death. In the end, execution was the only option which made sense, even though his actual crimes, not counting the ones in the future, barely warranted it. Still, Alexius seemed resigned to his fate, telling the assembled crowd that his life was meaningless since he had been unable to save his son.

Speaking of the younger Alexius, Dorian passed on a message, following Felix's will being read back in Tevinter, from a friend in Qarinus who was willing to help them out. When Alistair learned who it was, he had to laugh. He explained to Josephine that he had met Maevaris before, how she was kin to Varric, and offered to write her a personal letter. Their ambassador was happy for him to add his support.

On the subject of Dorian, Mother Giselle pulled Alistair aside to let him know she had been in contact with House Pavus. Apparently they had asked for her assistance in arranging a meeting to heal the estrangement between them. Alistair knew that family ties didn't always mean much, and without knowing the cause of the estrangement he was cautious about interfering, but he was sympathetic to their desire for reconciliation.

When she described the details, a private meeting away from the Inquisition forces, he was more suspicious. Even assuming it wasn't a ploy by the Venatori they would be vulnerable. The letter explained the family would send a retainer to Redcliffe tavern, which at least was familiar ground and he could ask for Teagan’s support. Alistair promised Mother Giselle he would bear it in mind but now wasn’t the time; he wasn’t about to trick Dorian into a meeting either, so he needed an opportunity to broach the matter with him.

A couple of days later, Solas came to him asking for assistance as one of his friends, a spirit of Wisdom had gone missing from their usual meeting place in the Fade. The elf told him how he had heard their cry for help as he slept, that he believed it had been summoned against its will, and how it only wanted his help to gain its freedom and return to the Fade.

Alistair was able to use the excuse of the preparations for visiting Orlais to get away from Skyhold to find Solas’ friend. He took along Dorian, hoping to find a way to bring up the subject of his family and work out how to raise the idea of a meeting. He also took Cole, wanting to know what skills the young spirit had; between the deadly looking pair of knives Alistair knew he carried and his ability to appear in unexpected places, he thought he might make an excellent scout.

They headed out to the Exalted Plains and as they neared the area where Solas believed his friend was being imprisoned they found bodies, burnt and clawed, apparently bandits and then a mage, pierced with arrows. Alistair feared they would arrive too late and was soon proved correct.

Solas looked devastated as he looked upon his once friend, the spirit already having taken on the monstrous shape of a demon. Alistair felt at a loss; he knew mages could be pulled back from that point, but spirits themselves, he had no idea. As far as Alistair could tell though it seemed to be trapped with the circle of crystals, so they had time to look into their options.

One of the mages approached them cautiously, identifying Solas and Dorian as mages and asking if they had any lyrium potions since they were exhausted from fighting the demon. Solas was understandably furious; railing at them for summoning the spirit and corrupting it. 

The mage made the mistake of trying to justify their actions; Alistair winced as they suggested it might be confusing for ‘someone who hadn’t studied demons’ and he couldn’t fault Solas’ anger but he had to step in.

“My friend here is quite the expert on spirits and demons,” he told them. “You would do would to heed him.”

Solas relaxed at his support but didn’t spare the mages from his disdain at their stupidity. The summoner opened his mouth, clearly about to attempt to defend their actions but then his shoulders slumped as he had to admit they had made a mistake.

Solas looked to him, holding his hands out in appeal. “The summoning circle. If we break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

Could it be that simple? Alistair hesitated as the mage who’d brought them here looked aghast, arguing the binding was the only thing preventing the demon from killing them all. Still, when it came down to it he wanted to trust Solas knew better so he agreed to break the stones, intending to be prepared to fight if it turned out the creature didn’t revert to its original form.

It took destroying all the stones for the summoning circle to finally collapse and but as soon as it did the demon’s shape shifting, flowing into a humanoid figure with glowing eyes. Alistair was grateful Solas had been right but the elf didn’t seem happy about it.

Solas spoke to the spirit in elvhen but Alistair didn't know enough of the language to understand its answers, only Solas' opening apology and his farewell as it faded into nothingness, presumably returning to the Fade. He hadn't even known spirits spoke different languages but he supposed if any did it would be Wisdom.

Cole tried to comfort Solas afterwards, in his own way. Alistair only heard part of the conversation, “He wanders the ways, walking unwaking, searching for wisdom,” as he tried not to eavesdrop too obviously. It wasn’t clear if Cole was speaking of the spirit or Solas himself but Alistair only hoped it gave him some comfort. 

The mages proved their stupidity moments later as they approached to thank him for saving them. Alistair almost didn’t stop Solas but he couldn’t see it would be anything other than a massacre. Better to escort them back to Skyhold to stand trial for their actions; even among the Wardens, who often turned a blind eye to blood magic, demon summoning was anathema.

He could see from Solas’ pinched expression that he was deeply hurt and didn’t stand in his way when the elf said he needed time alone. He only hoped he would indeed return to Skyhold in due course.

Cole, their very own spirit, came to him on the way back, saying, "Wisdom knows enduring is pain.” Alistair gave him a gentle smile, encouraging him to continue; he wanted Cole to understand he would be there for him. “He hurts for her,” Cole told him, “another of many he couldn't save. He carries necessary deaths."

“Don’t we all?” Alistair asked.

Cole seemed to take the question seriously, tilting his head to one side thoughtfully. “Necessary, unnecessary, who decides? You all carry deaths you regret even if you would do it again.”

It was still bothering him, even when Solas returned only a day behind them, and Alistair hurried to welcome him back. It surprised him how much he appreciated his words, knowing Solas saw him as a friend and so he hesitated to question him but curiosity won out. “Where did you go?” he asked.

Solas smiled, possibly the only person Alistair had ever met who was happier when he asked questions. “I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be.”

Alistair was sad to learn that the spirit hadn’t returned, he hadn’t realised spirits could die but Solas assured him it wasn’t the same for mortals, that it might someday rise again, though it would be changed, unlikely to remember him.

It relieved him that Solas had returned, he hadn’t liked to think of him grieving alone, especially after what Cole had said but Alistair doubted he was the right person to offer comfort. Instead, he suggested the elf find Fiona in the library; their friendship seemed to be a source of strength for both of them and he was happy she had someone to share her interests. 

About a week later, with preparations for visiting Orlais well underway, the Chargers returned having tracked down the demon from Therinfal. Apparently it had been able to appear as a series of different people before they were finally able to put it down. They had also found a number of letters on it, mostly stating what they already knew of Corypheus’ plans towards Celene and building a demon army rather than giving them any new information about how he would be going about it, but it was good to have the confirmation nonetheless.

Shortly after that, their new arcanist appeared and requested a meeting with Alistair. When he arrived in the undercroft he was surprised, but definitely pleased, to discover it was Dagna, the dwarven girl they had met in Orzammar all those years ago. Kallian had made arrangements with Greagoir and Irving for her to study at Kinloch Hold but he hadn’t thought about where she had ended up after the Circles had fallen. 

She had lots of ideas for things she wanted to study and items she wanted to make for the Inquisition. Still, Alistair was a little disturbing by her assertion that the anchor mark was ‘pretty’; he usually tried to avoid looking at it and it wasn’t like he could ever forget about it but Dagna seemed too fascinated by the science of it to consider the implications for him.

The council discussed who should accompany him to Celene’s ball, though the final decision would be left to him. The advisors would all be attending in their official capacities, though Cullen didn’t seem very happy about it. Josephine suggested Alistair should bring along another two or three companions who could help prove the Inquisition’s worth and who were capable of dealing with whatever Corypheus might have sent while they were there.

Alistair actually gave the matter some considerable thought, talking through the options with Fiona. Some he thought he could discount immediately; Sera would probably hate it, though if they could get her into the palace separately to their party, she might be able to get more out of the servants. Equally Solas would be out of place in such a setting, and that it was being held in Halamshiral was an added insult.

Alistair debated taking The Iron Bull since a Qunari would be a great demonstration of the diversity of the Inquisition but he didn’t want him to feel like he was being paraded as an oddity. Dorian on the other hand would probably relish the attention, and a Tevinter would be a draw, but was that the attention they wanted? It was hard trying to think about his choices not only for their skill in battle but in politics too.

Cassandra might hate him for it but she was an obvious choice. She knew how to act, what was expected of them, and she would bring a lot to a fight if it came down to it. If he had to suffer through an evening of nobles and their internecine politics then she could too.

He wanted to take a mage, in case Morrigan couldn't escape her own duties long enough to assist them. Unfortunately he knew Fiona would be considered unsuitable, even if she had been willing, and he had already ruled out Solas. Dorian was still possible but then there was Vivienne; he might disagree with the woman's politics but they was no doubt she was brilliant at what she did. She knew the court of Orlais like no-one else, except maybe Josephine, and having seen her at practice, it was clear she was a formidable mage.

Fiona wasn't convinced, pointing out anything she said on the subject of mages and the Circles would be taken as the Inquisition's position on the matter. 

Alistair shrugged. "I’ll just have to make my own opinions clear. Besides, just imagine her expression when she realises how well I know Morrigan."

His mother shook her head but even she had to agree Vivienne would be in her element there.

He wanted Blackwall to remain in Haven in case Corypheus returned to take advantage of his absence, hoping Hawke and Varric’s story about the darkspawn magister being able to control Wardens was a side-effect of the prison not an innate ability. Varric should stay behind for much the same reason, his experience could be invaluable, but that left Alistair’s group lacking anyone with his particular skill set.

Well, Cole might have those skills but Alistair couldn’t take him to the Orlesian court, even if he did want to introduce him to Kieran. The spirit would either draw too much attention or would end up leaving half the ball guests with odd gaps in their memories.

In the end Alistair went to speak to Sera directly; he hoped with the right incentive she would be willing to come along. Who didn’t want to break into Orlesian nobles’ rooms and go through their things? And with a legitimate excuse if she somehow managed to get caught doing it. To his relief she actually seemed fairly enthusiastic about the whole idea.

Josephine and Leliana approved of his choice of companions, though Leliana did give him a few searching looks. He had to admit Sera and Vivienne made an odd combination but the rogue seemed to have a grudging admiration for the mage. As expected, Cassandra glared at him when she heard but she didn’t argue. Alistair was also surprised at quite how unimpressed Cullen seemed, though when he saw the matching uniforms he conceded the point. Where they entirely necessary?

Every spare moment seemed to be taken up with ball preparations, dancing practice, where he had to thank the Arlessa for once, that he already knew the basics of many standard Orlesian dances, not just the traditional Fereldan ones.

As a distraction, the night before they left for Orlais, Alistair took up the Iron Bull’s invitation to drink with the Chargers. The mercenary had pointed out he couldn’t get to know everyone in the Inquisition but he should make the effort where he could. Alistair wasn’t used to being someone worth paying attention to, if anything he was still waiting for them to realise it had been a big mistake.

He found it a little daunting to walk into the bar but Iron Bull greeted him warmly and there was a free seat waiting for him. He has met Cremisius before, of course, and, as Krem and Bull joked about nicknames, Alistair couldn’t help wondering if Sten had ever had a nickname; he hadn’t known enough about the Qun back then to ask questions and Kallian had always struggled to find common ground with the warrior.

He was brought back to the conversation as Krem teased Bull about his ‘pillowy man bosoms’ offering him advice on how to bind them. Alistair wanted to indulge his curiosity, was that a subject the lieutenant had personal experience in but he restrained himself, it was either a rude question or an overly personal one and it didn’t matter either way, did it?

Bull must have seen something of it in his gaze though as he explained Krem was what the Qunari would call ‘aqun-athlok’, born as one gender but living as another. Alistair had never heard it described quite that way before but Krem wasn’t the first person he’d met in that situation so he quickly moved the conversation on. He was introduced to the other Chargers; a pair of elven women, Dalish and Skinner, a dark-skinned man called Stitches, Rocky, a heavily scarred dwarf, and Grim, a large blond man.

Alistair asked if Rocky was from Orzammar, thinking of their visit there during the Blight, and the dwarf explained how he had been exiled for blowing up part of the shaperate. Remembering how protective the dwarves there had been of their books, Alistair was almost surprised they hadn’t had him executed. Bull said Rocky was an expert in explosives, could take down enemy fortifications faster than a golem. Having fought against and alongside golems, Alistair shuddered at the image of an explosive which could achieve that. Rocky even boasted that he was getting close to his own version of Qunari blackpowder, though Bull seemed less convinced.

Dalish wore vallaslin, not a pattern he’d seen before but he felt it would be rude to question it so asked instead why she was away from her clan. She told him her Keeper thought she should see the world a little but Bull suggested she’d been sent away for being a mage. She insisted she was simply an archer, that her staff was a bow with an elven crystal for aiming. It had the sound of a long-running joke but he hoped she wasn’t concerned about Templars here.

Stitches was their healer, a Fereldan who’d taken up arms during the Blight. Bull told how he made an incredible potion but it tasted horrible and the man teased back that it was a poultice, he wasn’t supposed to drink it.

Skinner was quite matter-of-fact about how she’d joined the Chargers after killing some people but after Bull had elaborated that it was nobles who’d killed elves in her alienage for fun, Alistair thought it was fair enough. Though his gut churned at the thought that she was how Kallian could have ended up in Duncan hadn’t been there to recruit her for the Wardens.

Grim, it turned out, was a man of few words. Apparently it had been him Bull had had him impersonate when he had dragged Alistair out to meet some of the troops. Again Bull had his own take on his story, suggesting he was the lost leader of some small nation. If it was true Alistair couldn’t blame him for not being there; leadership was exactly as complicated as he’d always thought it would be.

The Chargers weren't the only ones drinking; Alistair spotted Dorian trying to teach Connor about wine, which was probably a lost cause if he'd taken after his father, he remembered Isolde complaining about Fereldans and their terrible taste in alcohol. He caught sight of Cole, hovering around Varric's table as the dwarf told tall tales over a game of Wicked Grace.

After a few drinks, the next morning came too soon but he had plenty of time to recover on the way to Orlais. The journey to Halamshiral had much in common with his trip to Val Royeaux, being spent in lessons of how to behave, when to speak, who to speak to, what to say. Alistair wasn’t entirely sure why they bothered; their main goal was to find and deal with the potential assassin.

Even with all the preparations, they reached Halamshiral sooner than Alistair would have liked and, as he changed into the dress uniform, he hoped it would all be worth it.


	16. Chapter 16

They arrived at the Winter Palace to be greeted by Grand Duke Gaspard. Alistair didn’t trust the man, remembering Teagan’s complaints about how he had insulted the memory of Queen Moira to his face. At least Celene had had the decency of offering up her personal champion to fight the duel Gaspard had goaded him into, though Alistair didn’t have any illusions that she would be a better person.

He had to be polite on behalf of the Inquisition, since it was the Grand Duke who’d provided their invitations, but he wouldn’t forget who he was dealing with. Gaspard, with the air of imparting a deep secret, told them he believed Briala, the Empress’ former servant turned elven ambassador, intended to disrupt the negotiations. Given the history of Halamshiral, both ancient and recent, Alistair supposed the elven woman had plenty of justification to do so, and sympathised with her for it, but they had to prevent Celene’s assassination if they wanted to thwart Corypheus’ plans.

He had plenty of reasons to be suspicious of the Grand Duke himself though he admitted some of them were Fereldan bias. For all Gaspard claimed he was supporting the Inquisition, he couldn't be blind to Alistair's own history. What if the Chevalier planned to learn from their last attempt and install a Fereldan puppet ruler; even if it gave them an incentive to keep him safe, he would prefer Kieran not be used as a pawn for the Orlesians.

Gaspard left them to their own devices as they waited to be announced, making his way over to a small group of nobles, already apparently at ease making small talk. Alistair let himself look around; though he couldn’t seem too overwhelmed by the fine decor even the entranceway was grand, but then he supposed Skyhold would look as impressive when their renovations were finished. As much as he felt he looked a fool in the dress uniform, he was glad not to be dressed up like the rest of the nobles here, each more outlandish than the next. He would have to mingle with them for the next few hours though, so it was best to make the most of it.

He spotted one woman looking around nervously, as though she was searching for something, without wanting anyone to notice. Thankfully the rest of the nobles present seemed too self-obsessed for that so he take a chance on approaching her. She told him she had misplaced a ring, a gift from Comtesse Montbelliard; Alistair had never heard of the Comtesse but judging from the lady’s nervousness, she wasn’t to be crossed. He agreed to help her find the ring, a little goodwill went a long way, and it didn’t take long to locate, on the ground beside a nearby fountain; she clearly hadn’t looked very hard but nevertheless seemed very grateful at his efforts.

As Alistair made his way around the courtyard he overheard a number of comments directed at him.

“Is that the Inquisitor?” one asked, in a barely lowered voice.

“The Fereldan bastard prince,” their companion replied. “It seems the Maker has a sense of humour.”

Alistair bit his tongue and forced himself not to react, even though they must have known they were speaking loudly enough for him to hear. He would have to rise above their pettiness, pretend it didn’t matter what they thought of him; he knew full well the Inquisition deserved better but he would do the best he could.

He hadn’t been paying attention to where Sera had got to and, by the time they were called forward, she had managed to collect a good luck coin, a secret document and a statuette of a halla. Alistair remembered the collection of little figures Kallian had given him over the course of the Blight, were they still in his room back in Redcliffe? He would have to ask Teagan to look when they returned.

He probably didn't need to ask Sera to watch out for any elves amongst the servants who looked out of place and to keep out her ears open for any useful gossip but he did anyway, reminding her to focus on information that would help them achieve their objective here. For once she didn’t even complain, just shook her head at him.

Josephine gave him one last warning before they entered. “When you speak to Celene, the entire court’s eyes will be upon you. You’ve been safer facing down dragons.”

A cheerful thought. He would almost sooner be back in front of the Landsmeet facing down Loghain then exposed to the entire Orlesian court but needs must. As they headed into the vestibule, Alistair took note of the exits; if it turned into a fight he wanted to be prepared and it would look bad if he got lost wandering around. 

They were finally announced, Gaspard first and then, “Accompanying him, Lord Inquisitor Alistair Theirin of Redcliffe.” He forced himself not to flinch, either at the title or the looks it brought him. He had argued with Josephine about using his full name; it wasn’t that he had ever wanted to be associated with the Fereldan crown but he wasn’t about to deny his heritage to suit the Orlesians. If Gaspard wanted to use the Inquisition to score political points he could take the consequences. The herald worked their way through a list of achievements, surely designed to make him uncomfortable, finishing with, “Champion of Blessed Andraste herself.”

His companions were announced after him, presumably in some order of precedence which made sense to the Orlesians: Cassandra first by her very long full name, and almost of long-winded relationship to the throne of Nevarra, titled as the ‘Hero of Orlais’ and Right Hand of the Divine; Cullen, came next, Commander of the Inquisition, and then Leliana, officially announced as the Inquisition’s Seneschal and ‘Nightingale’ to the Imperial Court, whatever that meant, perhaps a reference to her previous life as a Bard.

She was followed by a strange name he didn’t recognise, possibly Sera enjoying the moment far too much. Sera herself was nowhere to be seen, presumably mingling with the servants as they had discussed. Then came Josephine, whose family were nobles, and lastly Vivienne, who looked entirely too at ease for the situation. 

Alistair followed Gaspard to be introduced to Celene. She and Gaspard were just about barely polite to each other, then she turned to welcome him to the Winter Palace, also introducing him to her cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes. If he remembered Josephine’s lessons correctly, this was Florianne, who had organised the peace talks as she was also Gaspard’s sister, though he had just ignored her.

Celene was coldly polite about his presence and Alistair reminded himself he was representing the Inquisition and it wouldn't be the done thing to make reference to his heritage. Then again, as much as it had chafed when he first learnt it, he was technically half-Orlesian, not to mentioned elf-blooded and Halamshiral was an elven city. He had as much right to be here as anyone else, probably more than most.

With the formalities out of the way, he was freed to mingle with the assembled nobles, along with the other Inquisition members. He found Sera slightly out of the main train, watching the nobles watching him, and she asked him, told him more like, about some Red Jenny business she would like to follow up. Since he had brought her along for exactly that purpose, Alistair gave her free rein to investigate as much as she could, only pointing out the Inquisition would repudiate her if she was caught anywhere she really shouldn’t be.

Since Celene had specifically mentioned how she looked forward to seeing him dance, no doubt assuming a Fereldan bastard would lack skill in that area, Alistair made the point of arranging dancing partners. He might as well put all those lessons to good use. The elderly Dowager Lady Mantillon seemed particularly interested, complimenting his manners, though he wasn't sure if she was just impressed he had risen above her stereotype of a Fereldan.

When he got the opportunity to speak to Leliana, he passed on Gaspard’s comments about Ambassador Briala and she seemed marginally interested but then proceeded to tell him how Celene was fascinated by mysticism and other such nonsense and had found herself an ‘occult advisor.’

Alistair couldn’t help his reaction and Leliana was too sharp to miss it. “You knew?” And didn't tell me was the unspoken reprimand.

He shifted awkwardly on his feet. They were too exposed for him to admit the full story to her here, he had already realised how easy it was to eavesdrop on apparently private conversations. “She wouldn’t be involved in something like this,” he said.

Leliana frowned. “She was always ruthless and capable of anything. Why should she have changed?”

He knew they had never got on but surely she didn't really believe Morrigan would do something like this. “I would trust her with my life,” he said instead. Had already really, not just in facing down the Archdemon with only her word that he would be safe but with Kieran himself and she had never let him down.

Leliana raised an eyebrow but let it go though he could tell from her expression that they would be revisiting this conversation. He wasn't looking forward to it. Speaking of Morrigan, he hadn’t spotted her yet and he wanted the chance to warn her of what was going on.

Instead, they changed the conversation, agreeing he would investigate the guest wing. He overheard various nobles criticizing Gaspard on the way; apparently he had threatened to kill the entire Council of Heralds, and all their vassals, if they refused to make him Emperor again. It almost made a change when Duke Germain, Gaspard and Florianne’s uncle, complained that he hadn’t seen her all night.

Alistair had known no-one here would actually be a decent person but it was still hard to convince himself it wouldn’t be better to let Corypheus tear Orlais apart. But that would make him no better than Loghain, willing to let the world burn for the sake of politics; he didn't need to care for the Orlesians not to want the chaos that would surely follow the disintegration of their Empire, at a time when they all needed to be more united, not less.

As he crossed the Hall of Heroes, Alistair overheard two elven servants talking about a pick-up and then another pair speak of a possible situation in the servant’s quarters, apparently no-one had come out of there all night, but he knew there was no way he would be able to get there before he was missed by the court.

He wandered out onto one of the balconies, wondering if there was a way into the guest quarters and stumbled across a cylinder seal, just lying around. At this rate he was going to find the assassin by accidentally running into them rather than following any trail of evidence.

Celene’s ladies-in-waiting found him in the Guest Gardens and delivered a message from the Empress, that she was willing to offer her support to the Inquisition as soon as Gaspard was out of the picture. He hoped that was a good thing, that the offer was genuine and not an attempt to try and use them for her own ends, with Morrigan or Kieran as leverage.

Sera crossed his path to let him know she had already gone up the lattice in the garden and opened the side door. Apparently the halla statuettes were used to unlock certain doors, which made it slightly worrying they were just lying about. Then again, Corypheus’ assassin had to be getting in somehow; it would be ironic if they thwarted them by using the objects which had been left out for them for their own purposes. Sera had also collected another secret document, which she promised to pass onto Leliana.

He slipped through the door, moving with purpose so the guards wouldn’t question his presence. He looked around quickly for anything which seemed out of place, and found a document detailing the negotiations, which Sera had somehow missed. He slipped it into his pocket with the seal, then moved onto the Grand Library, hoping he would find Morrigan there.

He was still looking around when he heard the first of three bells ring to summon guests back to the ballroom for the next dance set and hurried to make it back just as the second bell sounded. Apparently, given the number of guests turning up at roughly the same time, it was the fashionable time to arrive.

Only a couple of steps into the ballroom he heard a familiar voice calling him, "Inquisitor."

He turned to find Morrigan coming down the stairs. Alistair couldn't help but stare at the fancy ball-dress she was wearing, her old necklace of beads and feathers replaced with gleaming gold. She looked like she belonged here in the midst of all this finery, but then Morrigan had always had the knack of looking like she was exactly where she had intended to be. She shook his head, even as she tossed a key at him, “I should have known I would end up cleaning up your messes again.”

“It is good to see you too,” he replied, intending it as a joke but unable to keep the truth from his tone.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I found a Tevinter agent. I suppose it’s you they’re after? You probably want to deal with them before they cause any more trouble.”

With the familiarity of their years of working together, they quickly exchanged the details then she turned to head off. "You don't want to come with me?" he asked.

A flash of something he didn't recognise crossed her face. "I need to stay at Celene's side. I hear you brought my predecessor along and I don't need to give her any ammunition against me."

Alistair resisted the urge to smile; even if he knew Morrigan was thrilled at the opportunity to pull out her most cutting comments, she wouldn't appreciate him taking away from her show of displeasure. "Save me a dance for later and watch her face?" he asked instead.

She raised an eyebrow. "Turning cunning in your old age?"

"I learnt from the best," he said, daring to tease her.

It was worth it for the almost fond expression which crossed her face. "Kallian you mean, of course."

He shrugged. "Well, I certainly didn't mean Oghren."

She laughed and they parted ways. He returned to update Leliana, then found Ambassador Briala out on a balcony. She was more pleasant to talk to than he had expected and actually seemed fairly reasonable, speaking of Celene and Gaspard with remarkable politeness.

He headed back into the ball, catching Cassandra and Vivienne’s attention. Sera was already waiting at the entrance to the servants’ quarters where their arms and armour had been smuggled in.

They didn't have a lot of time so Alistair couldn't get into his full armour, just pulled his gambeson on over his formal clothes. He would have to rely on his shield to protect him if they ran into any serious trouble, but he was hopeful it would only be a lone assassin or at most a small group. Surely Corypheus wouldn't have been able to get more than that into the heavily guarded palace?

They examined the servant's body and then made their way into the gardens where they found another body, this time of a messenger for the Council of Heralds dead with a weapon nearby bearing the family crest of the Chalons. Was it actually Gaspard or just a set-up, after all, his feud with the council was well-known.

The spell which whooshed over his head was the first indication of the enemies present. Vivienne responded in kind as Sera ducked around the fountain to come up behind their attackers. It was over in a matter of seconds and they were able to get a proper look at the people who had attacked them. From their clothes and armour, they looked to be Venatori, which could still suggest a set-up, but then again it would be much easier for Corypheus to get assassins in if he had an inside contact.

They moved on to investigate the rest of the wing, encountering another group of Venatori. They also discovered a secret vault in the Grand Apartments, in which Sera found an elven locket. It looked more personal than valuable and Alistair had a vague feeling it might turn out to be useful. It reminded him of how Eamon had kept his own broken locket safe for him all those years until Kallian found it in his study.

As they turned to head back they met a large group of Venatori. Just as they finished off the last of these attackers, Ambassador Briala appeared. She insisted she had nothing to do with the Tevinters, claiming to have come looking revenge for whoever had attacked her servants, which did at least match what he had heard already. She didn't stick around for him to ask questions though, dropping gracefully off the edge of a balcony just as the ballroom bell rang. 

It took a few minutes to change back out of his armour but again Alistair made it back to the ballroom shortly after the second bell and he didn't think it looked too much as though he had rushed.

Alistair had hoped to find Morrigan again so he could let her know what they had found but Florianne cornered him almost as soon as he arrived, insisting he join her on the dance floor where they could not be overheard. They danced together, Alistair doing his best to parry the duchess’ verbal attacks and not tread on her feet in the process. If they could make it through the entire dance it would likely improve the court's opinion of him.

“What do you know about our little war?” she asked.

“Not much, I’m afraid," he said, going for honesty. "It wasn’t a priority for me before.”

“It took great effort to arrange tonight’s negotiations,” she said. “Yet one party would use this occasion for blackest treason.” There was something off about how she said it, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly as she continued, “The security of the empire is at stake. Neither one of us wishes to see it fall.”

“Is that what we both want?” he asked, perhaps a little sharply but she only gave him an approving look. He span her around, concentrating for a moment on the dance steps rather than the conversation.

She took advantage of his distraction. “I know you arrived as a guest of my brother, and you have been everywhere in the palace.”. How much exactly did she know? And whose side was she on? “You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor," she told him, "and a concern to some."

“And to you, your Grace?” he asked. If she thought he was a problem, she might well sympathise with Corypheus.

“A little of both actually,” she replied. Or it could just be an expected political stance. There was no reason the Orlesian court should know what to do with the bastard prince turned Herald of Andraste any more than anyone else. “This evening is of great importance, Inquisitor. I wonder what role you will play in it.”

He wished he knew what game she was playing, how much she knew about what was really at stake here.

"Do you even yet know who is friend and who is foe?” she asked. “Who in the court can be trusted?”

Well, he knew enough to answer that. “With all this intrigue I’m not even sure I can trust myself anymore,” he joked and her lips quirked up in what was almost a genuine smile.

“Very wise,” she said. “It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in dangerous machinations tonight.”

“Isn't everyone?” he said, before he could think through his response properly.

She ignored the comment, telling him openly the attack was imminent. “You must stop  
Gaspard before he strikes.” She explained he could find the Captain of Gaspard’s mercenaries in the gardens of the Royal Wing. Alistair tried to examine her expression for signs of deceit; could this be part of the plot? To distract him whilst Gaspard acted; surely she couldn’t be selling out her own brother?

He went back to Leliana, who pointed out it was stability they were after, they didn’t specifically need Celene. Still, if not her, who was to say Gaspard would offer them anything better; he had a reputation as a warmonger after all. The argument that Celene had no heirs went just as much for him, though Alistair supposed he could always marry Anora and take Ferelden that way. It would almost be worth it for the way Loghain would spin in his grave, except for all the ways it would be terrible.

It was too soon for him to disappear again, if he didn't want to raise questions about where he was going. Still, that gave him the opportunity to investigate the locket they had found. He managed to drop it into conversation with Celene's ladies-in-waiting and they quickly gained him an audience with the Empress.

Part of him hoped Briala was innocent and that she and Celene would be able to reconcile their differences but he was sure Morrigan would say he was being an incorrigible romantic. Then again, she said the same whenever he surprised her on her birthday or Feast Day with her favourite sweets or pastries, but she would still eat them.

Celene was cagey but she admitted the locket had been a gift from Briala, for her coronation. She claimed not to know why she had kept it, that it meant nothing to her, but Alistair wasn’t so dense he couldn’t see through her denials.

Instead he took the locket to Briala herself, who snatched it from him with shaking fingers, looking at it disbelievingly. “I can’t believe she kept it,” she said. “What was she thinking? If Gaspard had found this, it would have ruined her.”

“Maybe it meant something to her?” Alistair suggested and Briala looked thoughtful. He couldn’t believe someone who sounded so concerned for Celene’s reputation would have any part in assassinating her, which made it more likely Gaspard was the culprit and Florianne’s tip true but something about it didn’t quite sit right with him.

When he could finally get away, he ran into an ambassador on the way to the Royal Wing, who was keen to speak with him about his battle prowess. In desperation, Alistair directed him to speak to Cullen; he would have to apologise to the commander later but he didn't have the time now.

They entered the Royal Wing cautiously; this area was definitely out-of-bounds and they could get into a great deal of trouble if they were caught in here. They heard a scream and found a Harlequin attempting to kill an elven servant. Alistair swung out with his shield, knocking the attacker out of the window. 

The serving girl believed Briala had set her up when she ordered her to search Florianne’s rooms, that she knew too many of Briala’s secrets. Nothing surprised Alistair at this point but it didn’t seem to make sense with what else they knew. He still couldn’t imagine her working with the Venatori; Tevinter had no great love of elves. But did the elven woman think the Grand Duchess was actually involved?

It seemed possible, so when they pushed open the doors to the Royal Garden to be met by Florianne and half-a-dozen guards, he was prepared. Unfortunately she was out of reach on the upper balcony and the air between them was already glowing with the green of his mark.

“It was kind of you to walk into my trap so willing,” she said. “Corypheus insisted the Empress died tonight and I would hate to disappoint him.”

So it was her all along, it made sense why she had worked so hard to arrange these peace talks, and she had set Gaspard up to take the fall. “I’m sure your master is used to disappointment by now,” he replied but she had already done whatever she was planning, or the Venatori had, as a rift opened before his eyes. 

"Kill him," she told them. Alistair had to bring up his shield quickly as several arrows thudded into and in the confusion she slipped away. They fought through the Venatori along with a rage demon and a number of lesser shades before they could close the rift.

They hurried back to the ballroom through the chapel, not concerned about appearances at this point, and encountered another group of Venatori surely buying Florianne time for whatever she had planned. Alistair feared they would arrive too late.


	17. Chapter 17

They couldn't spare the time to discard armour or weapons, not when they might still need them, but Alistair made the effort to clean himself of obvious blood and sheathe his sword at least.

When they reached the doors of the main hall, everything still seemed normal. There were no sounds of screams or of the panic which would surely had ensued if Florianne had made her move. 

Cassandra agreed to take his sword and shield so his appearance didn't cause any alarm and Alistair made his way across the room to Cullen, even as he looked out for Florianne, hoping he would have enough time to warn the commander before everything got complicated. 

He spotted the Grand Duchess standing on the stairs speaking with Gaspard and Briala and was mindful of Gaspard’s mercenary captain’s belief that the Grand Duke must be the mastermind behind her plan. Gaspard had clearly been up to something but whether he was also in league with Corypheus was another matter. 

Cullen warned him Celene was about to start her speech even as he agreed to let him speak with Florianne. Alistair didn’t want to make a public scene but there seemed to be no way around it, he couldn't take the risk the guards were her supporters. 

Florianne tried to hide her shock when she saw he had survived her trap but something must have given away the seriousness of the situation as Gaspard and Briala both backed away. She tried to deny any involvement as he laid out the evidence against her but it was an unconvincing act and whispers rose around the ballroom in condemnation before the Empress ordered her guards to arrest her. The Grand Duchess made quite a scene, dropping to her knees and sobbing, forcing the guards to have to drag her away.

Having prevented the assassination, they stepped aside to speak in private, Gaspard and Briala still trying to score political points off each other, while Celene demanded answers. Alistair knew that whatever he told her would determine who led Orlais after this, though he was probably the last person who should be involved in such a discussion; then again he’d basically given Anora the Fereldan throne and Kallian had literally given Bhelen the crown of Orzammar so it didn't seem like he could get out of it.

Whatever Celene’s bad qualities, and it was clear she had many, at least she wanted peace with Ferelden and the rest of Thedas, unlike Gaspard, and so Alistair felt little guilt about detailing everything he’d heard this evening about the man’s plans. Surely it was unlikely Florianne had acted without his tacit approval, even if he didn’t know the details of what she had planned.

He hesitated again about reporting on Briala’s activities but he knew, with Celene and Briala reconciled, the lives of elves in Orlais would be marginally safer. He wished he had brought Solas, or even Fiona, since he suspected there were things the Ambassador wasn’t telling him but there was little he could do about that now. Perhaps if she could be persuaded to visited Skyhold...

It still felt wrong to have Celene thank him for what he had done and somewhat dishonest to stand at her shoulder as she announced the end of the war but it was worth it to be present as she announced Briala’s new title as Marquise of the Dales. It was a momentous step to allow an elf such political power and Alistair appreciated how the new Marquise made a point of publically offering the empire’s support to the Inquisition.

The ball quietened down from that point, once it was clear all the excitement was over for the evening. Alistair allowed numerous nobles to sate their curiosity whilst ostensibly thanking him for his efforts but eventually it got too much and he slipped out onto one of the balconies. 

Footsteps followed him and he turned to find Morrigan standing in the doorway. "Well, you do have some skill at diplomacy after all," she sounded pleased, rather than surprised as he might have expected.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I didn't do anything special."

"And so modest,” she said. “The Orlesian nobility make drunken toasts to your victory and you are not even there to hear them."

Alistair shook his head. "I've always had a good understanding of my own shortcomings," he said. "But usually you'd be the first one to point them out."

Morrigan laughed. "Maybe I want to be on your good side since we shall be spending a lot more time together?"

That hadn't seemed to have been a concern of her's before and something of his confusion must have shown on his face.

"Celene has named me Imperial liaison to the Inquisition," she explained. "I shall be joining you in Skyhold and I am looking forward to seeing your new home." 

She began to turn to leave as the music inside started up again and, feeling daring, Alistair bowed formally to Morrigan, “Would you do me the honour?”

She gave him a suspicious look, as though suspecting she was being mocked, but agreed. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye as he spun her round, the flash of an Inquisition uniform, but whoever it was left them to their moment. For a few minutes, they danced in silence and Alistair felt the stresses of the evening drop away. It couldn't last, of course, and too soon Morrigan had to head off.

Sadly there was no opportunity to see Kieran before they left but Morrigan assured him they would be following them to Skyhold as soon as they could.

Leliana tried to corner him, presumably to discuss Morrigan, on the way back but he was able to avoid her by mostly riding with Sera, who was deeply enjoying mocking the nobles they’d met.

The morning after their return he ran into Josephine talking to an unfamiliar Revered Mother. Apparently the Chantry wanted Cassandra and Leliana in Val Royeaux to help them decide what to do next. Josephine insisted they were both needed by the Inquisition and the Chantry would have to wait. Alistair was more than happy to agree; if the Chantry couldn’t do anything until the two Hands of the Divine were there with them, he would keep them indefinitely.

Though he tried to avoid Leliana for as long as possible, she managed to corner him before he could find an excuse to get away from Skyhold for a few days.

"So, Morrigan then?" she asked. It sounded casual but he knew better; he had seen her carry out an interrogation before.

He felt his stomach sink but he had to at least try and pretend all was well. "Yes, won't it be good to have her here too," he said, with an effort at a smile.

Leliana frowned at him as though he was being a particularly difficult puzzle. "You never liked her whilst we were travelling together."

"That's not true," he protested. "She never liked me..."

The look Leliana gave him was unconvinced. "So what changed?"

Alistair panicked, turning away so Leliana couldn't see his expression. He hadn't thought of a cover story for how their truce had come about and he couldn't tell her about the dark ritual. Though... Well, Morrigan could get angry at him later, she should have given him something to tell people, she was the smart one in this relationship. Not that it was a relationship exactly, they were friends, for Kieran’s sake. So he had to keep reminding himself.

"The night before the battle, we... errr..." He looked back at Leliana slightly sheepishly and she raised an eyebrow.

"I can't imagine your skills in that regard thawed her out," she said drily.

Alistair felt his cheeks heat and wished he didn't blush so easily. "Yes, well, then she found out she was pregnant."

Both Leliana's eyebrows jumped up so far they vanished into her fringe. "You're telling me Morrigan has a child? With you?"

"Yes," he said defensively. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, I was just surprised," she said. "You've never mentioned it before."

He bit his lip. "I didn't want... I just wanted him to be safe. We thought Orlais would be for the best, Anora couldn't reach him there and the Orlesians wouldn't want to lose their possible leverage."

"So Morrigan being sent to the Inquisition is Celene's way of returning your favour," Leliana said thoughtfully.

Alistair flinched. "I... I hadn't thought of that. You mean it's supposed to be a bribe?"

Leliana shrugged. "More an incentive to think well of her, I would imagine. So," she continued, her head tilted to one side curiously. "Now the secret's out you can tell me all about them."

It didn't seem fair to talk about Morrigan behind her back, especially when she and Leliana had never been close, but he was glad of the chance to tell someone else about Kieran. There were things he couldn't let her know but he hoped she would take any of his son's peculiarities as a side-effect of being brought up by Morrigan and really he was a perfectly normal child in most ways.

Leliana insisted he needed to tell the rest of his council the truth but he managed to persuade her to hold off, promising he would make full introductions once they arrived.

It was late one evening when a messenger came to fetch him to the gates. Morrigan had arrived in a carriage and when he got there she passed Kieran out into his arms fast asleep. To a casual observer it would hopefully appear he was simply helping their new liaison with her luggage and they could deal with anything else once they had been officially announced.

The following day's plans involved introducing Morrigan to his inner circle and then more formally to the war council but first there was someone else he wanted her, and Kieran, to meet.

He could tell Fiona was nervous as they made their way across the hold but there was no need for her to be. “What if they don’t like me?” she asked.

“Morrigan doesn’t like anyone,” he told her.

"That's hardly reassuring," she said, but it seemed to be enough to let her move on. 

They found them in the small private courtyard, Morrigan sunning herself on a stone bench and Kieran examining something on the ground. Fiona lurked in the doorway as Alistair crouched down beside his son. "There's someone I'd like you to meet," he said.

Morrigan pulled herself to her feet and stalked over to the doorway. Fiona shrank back but Alistair held his tongue, he knew if Morrigan had been actually concerned she would have quite a different reaction. "Tis good to met you at last," she said, wrapping an arm around Fiona and guiding her into the courtyard.

"This is Fiona," Alistair told Kieran. "She's your grandmother."

Kieran hid his face against Alistair, peeking at Fiona over his shoulder but his shyness only lasted a few moments before he apparently couldn’t hold back his questions any longer. “I've heard about you," he said. "You’re the leader of the rebel mages, aren't you? And you used to be a Warden but now you’re not?"

"That's right," Fiona said, sounding surprised. "What else do you know about me?"

"You come from Orlais," he said. "We've been living there. I didn’t like it much, everyone hid their ugliness under pretty masks but it didn’t go away. And you’re an elf, your blood is like Papa’s but more so. I don't really know any elves, not anymore.”

Some of his phrasing made Alistair wince but he had warned Fiona and she seemed overjoyed as she sat down on the ground beside him. She left some distance between them but Kieran quickly closed the gap, leaning into her lap.

Morrigan leant against a pillar, watching them with what could almost be a fond look. “She’s good with him,” she said in a low voice, sounding a little surprised.

“There are lots of children his age in the Circle,” Alistair said, somehow keeping his voice level even though it wanted to crack. The thought of his precious, precocious son locked up like a criminal, the memory of the terrified children at Kinloch Hold, was all he ever needed to know what the Chantry were doing was wrong.

Morrigan tensed and Alistair was sure she was thinking the same. “I swear to you, it’ll never happen,” he said. He would be doing his best to see that the Circle was not restored. One good thing about the position he had been forced into was that people wanted to hear his thoughts and, on this matter, he wouldn't hesitate to use that influence.

She gave him a sharp look, then nodded and they returned to watching their son in companionable silence, enjoying the moment before the performance which was to follow.

***

_Vivienne forced a smile as she waited in the main hall at Skyhold for 'Lady' Morrigan’s official introduction to the inner circle of the Inquisition. She had been furious with the Empress for replacing her with such a base apostate and had gritted her teeth on meeting the woman in person at Halamshiral. Now for her to be sent to them here as Imperial liaison was adding insult to injury._

_The woman was even dressed like a savage Avaar, all leather and feathers, no taste at all or sense of decorum. She chanced a look across at the Inquisitor as the formalities were made, wondering how he felt about it, aware they had both been companions of the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight. She shouldn't have been surprised by the genuine smile on his face, after all she knew already how little he cared about the proper support of mages, but it was the answering look that really shocked her. She had never seen the Chasind woman look so welcoming._

_"Alistair. I shouldn't have been surprised you would find yourself in trouble again, should I?" The warm tone almost eclipsed the chiding words and the Inquisitor smiled._

_"Well, you know me,” he said. “I can't help myself." He seemed more amused than offended by the reprimand, as though an apostate had any place judging one such as him._

_Morrigan glanced sideways, lips quirking in a half-smile. "Kieran has missed you."_

_Who was Kieran? Vivienne tried not to let a frown show as she wracked her brain trying to remember if she'd heard that name before, another of the Hero's companions perhaps?_

_Then came the sound of running footsteps and a young boy came flying into the room._

_"Papa!" cried the boy as he flung himself into the Inquisitor's arms._

_She was glad to see she wasn’t the only one who was shocked by this revelation, and especially that Leliana, who was so quick to play on her history with the Inquisitor, didn’t looked pleased either. The child looked perhaps ten years old, conceived during careless celebrations of the Blight’s ending she supposed. It was good of the Inquisitor to acknowledge the child, who knew if it was really his, though there was some slight resemblance._

_In the burst of discussion following his appearance, Vivienne wondered if the boy was a mage, like his mother. And his grandmother if there was any truth to the rumour that Fiona was the Inquisitor’s mother. If so, it was probably a gift of fate to have him here where she could save him from the harm their teachings would cause. Doubtless he lacked discipline but she could quickly handle that._

_Lost in such thoughts, Vivienne allowed herself to be dismissed with the others, barely acknowledging the Iron Bull’s polite, “Ma’am,” as she passed him and ignoring the face Sera pulled when the girl presumably thought she couldn’t see. She headed straight to the library, she had lessons to plan._

***

Fiona lead Kieran away so Morrigan could speak with the war council, who still appeared shocked at the revelation of his existence. Alistair wished he could have stayed but he had bowed to Morrigan’s expertise in this.

Morrigan admitted she had her own reasons for agreeing to act as liaison to the Inquisition and let the council think Alistair was part of it, but he knew better. Still, whatever she had planned, it wouldn’t risk Kieran and so he was happy to leave her to it.

Leliana pointed out that Celene knew of their relationship too and they wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret much longer. Cullen was more concerned about the safety of the Inquisitor’s family, started talking about guards and security protocols. Alistair could see the wisdom in his plans but Morrigan didn’t look impressed.

As the commander stuttered to a halt under her heavy gaze, Morrigan raised an eyebrow in Alistair’s direction. “Am I not capable of defending myself?”

“As much as anyone else in Skyhold,” he said. “But I would hate any harm to come to you because of me. And can you look after yourself and Kieran at the same time?”

She frowned as she conceded the point. “Very well. But I shall have the final say on who you choose.”

Cullen looked as though he was going to argue but Leliana interjected before he could. “Of course. I will offer up any of my people if Commander Cullen cannot find anyone acceptable.”

“I’m sure we will manage,” Morrigan said sharply, her skirt swishing around her legs as she turned abruptly and stalked out of the room.

It took Alistair a moment to realise exactly what had just happened and he could only give both of them a disappointed look. “I hope you won’t choose someone unsuitable to guard my son just because you wanted to score political points.”

Leliana had the decency to look embarrassed, whilst Cullen only looked nonplussed before assuring him it was the furthest thing from his mind.

Once the excitement of Morrigan’s arrival had passed, daily life at Skyhold returned to normal and Alistair had some breathing space before the council started to discuss their next moves.

For some reason, possibly because she’d been in league with Corypheus, Florianne was sent to Skyhold for judgement. At least this wasn’t as difficult a choice as dealing with Gereon Alexius; Florianne had no mitigating circumstances for her actions, Corypheus had only offered her power and she had leapt at the opportunity.

Alistair wasn’t keen on the idea of executing her but then even he could see how foolish it would be to leave her free to keep scheming. He racked his brains for any sort of precedent and wondered if there was something she could still do to benefit the Inquisition, at least then they could still keep an eye on her.

Although Florianne herself had acknowledged his authority in this she was still defiant, though she claimed to have realised that Corypheus would not have honoured any arrangement she had made. Alistair sentenced her to work alongside Josephine and hoped he hadn’t made a mistake but Josephine seemed to approve and she could handle herself in that respect. If Florianne tried to betray them she would regret it.

He had a fascinating conversation with Kieran, after walking in on he and Cole speaking a language he'd never heard before. Cole promptly vanished and Kieran happily curled up under Alistair's arm. "Compassion was telling me about the wolf man, Papa."

"The wolf man?" Alistair asked, neatly tucking away the name his son had given to Cole for another time.

"Yes, the wolves are his friends," Kieran told him. "I saw them in the Fade."

"Did you now?" Alistair still found it strange to think that mages entered the Fade every night in their dreams. For a place that non-mages weren't supposed to be able to reach, he had been there three times now, four if he was to truly believe that was where he had encountered Solas in the... memory of Haven? "Is he here in Skyhold too?" he asked.

Kieran frowned as though Alistair should know better; he really did take after his mother. "Yes, Papa. Grandma's friend, who looks like an egg."

Alistair fought to keep a straight face. Solas did kind of look like an egg, but he mustn't encourage him. Anyway, weren't elves really against wolves? Hadn't that been part of the issue with Zathrian's clan and the werewolves in the Brecilian Forest? Then again, he supposed it suited Solas' loner image. "What did Cole tell you about him?"

The way Kieran hesitated before continuing was enough to send warning signals to Alistair. "He's like me, but not," Kieran said eventually. "More like my other grandmother."

"Your _other_ grandmother?" Alistair asked, even as he felt hairs rise on the back of his neck. Morrigan wouldn't have let Flemeth anywhere near their son, surely?

"She found me in the Fade," Kieran said, biting his lip nervously. "I didn't want to tell Mother, I knew it would upset her."

So Solas was like Flemeth in some way. Swapping bodies the way Morrigan had told Kallian the Witch of the Wilds did had would explain all his ancient knowledge but somehow it didn't feel right. Besides, they had never entirely figured out what was behind Flemeth's survival.

Kieran wiggled out of his embrace and Alistair put the conversation to the back of his mind. He would have to consider what it meant but later, when they had more time.

Still, it was good to have time together to be a family, a little moment of peace in the midst of the chaos. Morrigan wouldn’t stand it for long and Fiona also seemed to find it overwhelming but Alistair would have spent entire days with Kieran if he could, just watching him as he read and played and studied his lessons. How had he gotten this lucky?

Sadly the peace wasn't to last long as Alistair walked into a heated discussion between Cullen and Cassandra. Intellectually he knew about Templars and their addiction to lyrium but it wasn’t the same as seeing it in someone who, despite their initial differences, was turning into a friend. Cullen, for all he was still trapped by the indoctrination the Chantry had given him about mages, was genuinely trying to make amends for his actions, or rather his inactions, in Kirkwall.

After Cullen excused himself, Cassandra explained the Commander had asked her to find a replacement for him, fearing he would be unable to continue to perform his duties. She disagreed and asked Alistair to help persuade him to stay the course, pointing out the boost if they could prove it could be done.

It was true, Alistair had never heard of a Templar giving up lyrium before, though he’d seen the long-term effects on retired Templars; few survived long after retirement. It was different for mages, of course, but he wondered if Fiona had ever heard of a mage becoming addicted to lyrium, or Dorian perhaps, things were different in Tevinter.

He opened the door to Cullen’s office just as the Commander flung a box at the wall and Alistair recognised the blue liquid dripping down the door. Cullen looked mortified so Alistair tried to make a joke of it. “I’m sure the box had it coming.”

It didn’t seem to help much and he noticed the dark circles under Cullen’s eyes. Alistair tried to reassure him of his support but Cullen was clearly suffering. “You saw what happened at Ferelden’s Circle,” he said. “After that I wanted to serve and they sent me to Kirkwall. But with Meredith’s madness… I swear I want nothing to do with that life anymore.”

Alistair could appreciate that, the near annulment of Kirkwall’s Circle must have been a wake-up call, and he was beginning to accept Cullen couldn’t be entirely blamed for it. Indeed, he hadn’t even tried to blame Anders now, perhaps understanding where the real fault lay. Still, it was a hard path he had chosen for his repentance.

Cullen tried to insist he would do whatever was best for the Inquisition. It wasn’t a decision that should be made for someone else but it was obvious Cullen needed orders, certainty; Alistair shuddered, reminded clearly of why he’d never wanted this sort of power. Reluctantly, he told him he didn’t need lyrium, was doing the right thing in giving it up.

The Commander seemed calmer with the decision made for him but Alistair still left wondering once again if he had made the right choice. Kallian had always seemed so sure in her decisions, but he found himself constantly doubting.


	18. Chapter 18

In the weeks which followed their success at Halamshiral, Corypheus and the Venatori were quiet, which was almost more concerning than a frontal assault since it meant they were probably planning something.

There were a couple of loose ends to tie up following the ball. The Dowager Duchess sent a cryptic note regretting they had been unable to dance at the ball but offering information which allowed them to gain a small parcel of land within Orlais for the Inquisition. Her correspondence was followed by a message from Celene and Briala warning about a Venatori attack on a Nevarran noble which allowed them to improve their relations with Nevarra.

Florianne offered up her co-conspirators, suggesting she could draw them out if she was allowed to spill intelligence to them of the Inquisition’s plans. It was a dangerous game but one Leliana was confident they could manage. The Inquisition troops survived the subsequent ambush but unsurprisingly Florianne disappeared. Perhaps her former allies had punished her for her double-dealing, Alistair couldn’t say he would be upset if she were dead, or maybe she had just gone to ground. She wouldn’t be able to do much harm now, out of power, with no allies, she posed no threat.

Hawke had been remarkably patient but she was obviously relieved when the council agreed they could allow him the time to go and meet her contact, even though they wanted to combine the meeting with other matters.

When Alistair explained they had other Inquisition business to resolve in Crestwood first, Hawke accepted it without argument. Nonetheless, she seemed on edge as they travelled, frequently slipping away to scout ahead.

When they got to Sera's agreed meeting place with her contact, on the East Hills side of Crestwood, there were only ruins around and even she seemed confused, having been expecting at least a village.

A man stumbling out of the woods, hands shaking, and begged for forgiveness. "Harmond made me do it," he said.

Alistair could see where this was going. “Look it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“No, no!,” he said, looking nervously around. “It has to go right or he’ll kill me for the marching. It wasn’t my fault.”

The marching? Alistair was confused but he didn’t get a chance to ask any questions.

“ _You’re_ the one with the rumour out of Verchiel?” Sera asked, her tone almost mocking.

He obviously wasn't what Sera had expected but then he seemed equally nonplussed at her appearance. " You're her, you're the one he's waiting for." Then he turned, shouting out, "It's her, Red Jenny," even as he ran for the cover of the trees.

A couple of bolts flashed out of the treeline and he dropped to the ground. Alistair raised his shield, expecting an ambush, but if it had been intended as one it was clumsy. A half-dozen mercenaries emerged from the trees but they were no match for their group.

As the last of them fell, a voice came from within the ruins. “I wasn’t aware the Inquisitor was personally involved. This is a tragic misunderstanding…”

Alistair agreed to sheathe his sword, over Sera’s protests, and a man dressed as a noble stepped forward with a fawning smile.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he said. Alistair's grip tightened on his sword but he hesitated to draw it again until he knew what was happening.

The noble introduced himself as Lord Pel Harmond. "I do hope, Inquisitor, that you continue to respond to reason," he continued.

Sera spat at him accusingly. "Frigging user, you are. Another noble prick who punches down."

Harmond shook his head. "We are the same, you and I,” he said, patronisingly. “We both need people."

That seemed like a deliberate oversimplification and it was clear Sera was furious with the man, had no interest in waiting for the Inquisition to gather any information from him.

"You _were_ the one who set this ambush up, right?" Alistair asked. “It’s not like you can accidently hire a group of mercenaries.”

Lord Harmond smiled ingratiatingly. "Granted it wasn’t a direct attack but the first move was hers… and apparently yours."

Alistair took a deep breath to keep his temper. Nothing had changed since the Blight, nobles were still only interested in their own petty squabbles and gains regardless of the bigger picture. "You want to talk now but Sera is my ally," he told him. "You attacked her friends."

At his side Sera, who had been practically snarling, was now looking at him with some surprise. Did she really think he would take the selfish noble's side over her people?

"Come now, you know how much her meddling cost me?” Harmond said, as though he was the injured party here. “Because apparently you were complicit."

"Well?" Alistair said through gritted teeth. It was clear if they gave the man enough rope, he would hang himself with it.

"Honestly, up to this very moment, I thought you’d also been tricked by these Red Jennies,” Harmond continued. “You are of noble birth and as the Inquisitor you are more than a peer. I attacked them on behalf of us both."

Sera swore at Harmond and Alistair shared the sentiments. Funny how the suggestion of his being of noble birth only came up when it suited them.

"Inquisitor? Herald, I don't want to be your enemy," Harmond said. "I am barely invested in being hers. If you are willing to recognise an opportunity..."

He saw an opportunity, certainly. Weren't Cassandra and the rest of the council always pushing on him to use the powers of the Inquisition more? Alistair took a certain vindictive pleasure in requisitioning the man's lands and title for the Inquisition and Sera's astonishment was clear but she seemed to approve.

Hawke rejoined them later that day with some bad news, the village of Crestwood was under attack from undead. Alistair’s stomach churned as he remembered arriving in Redcliffe during the Blight to a similar scene. He only hoped the explanation was different.

After fighting through demons and undead they reached the village. One villager believed they were coming from the direction of ‘Old Crestwood’ and another spoke of how many they’d lost during the Blight. Alistair knew it wasn’t directed at him but he still felt a wave of anger at the memory. If only Loghain hadn’t… He shook his head, he had to focus on the present.

He wasn't keen on delaying meeting Stroud but they could hardly leave the village to its predicament; he only hoped Stroud was far enough beyond the village to be unaffected.

The demons had to be coming from a rift, but where could it be? They found the mayor who mentioned the ‘light’ in the lake, telling them how darkspawn had flooded the old village during the Blight. 

Alistair didn’t fancy swimming to it but he had noticed a dam as they came in. “Can the lake be drained?”

The mayor seemed oddly unwilling for that to happen. “You’d have to evict the bandits in the old fort to use the dam,” he said. “I can’t ask you to risk your life.”

Alistair frowned at him, did the man not realise who he was? When the mayor understood they would not be persuaded, he reluctantly handed over the key to the dam controls, warning them, “The rift must be in the caves under Old Crestwood, but I would not linger there.”

The light rain which had started to fall whilst they were at the village had become a proper downfall by the time they reached the keep. Alistair knew they were near the Storm Coast but really… He would have suggested knocking but Cassandra just smashed down the door and then they were under attack.

The bandits were no real threat, no more than two dozen of them in the entire building, and soon the keep was theirs. They quickly found the door which led towards the dam and followed the path down. By now the rain had turned into a deluge and the stone was slippery underfoot. The lake water churned, waves tossing like at sea, unlike the stillness of Lake Calenhad to which Alistair was more accustomed. 

The controls were in a building actually on the dam itself, which turned out to be a tavern because, of course, why wouldn’t it be? Once turned the lake drained away almost unnaturally quickly, revealing the drowned buildings of Old Crestwood. The rift wasn't immediately visible but the mayor had said something about caves…

For buildings which had been underwater for ten years, they were surprisingly well-preserved but more disturbing were the spirits they encountered, not demons but a sign the Veil was thin here. They found a path of half-rotted boards leading into the caves which showed signs of habitation. The mayor had mentioned taking in refugees during the Blight, perhaps this was where they had been living.

The path eventually led down to what looked like an old thaig and here they encountered more undead and demons. Alistair wondered if this had been part of the Deep Roads and if drowned darkspawn could become possessed; it was an unpleasant thought.

When they met a greater rage demon, Alistair knew they must be near the rift. They searched the surrounding rooms and eventually found it surrounded by demons. It was a hard fight as wraiths and terrors kept spawning out of the rift but finally he was able to close it.

They came out of the cave into blazing sunshine, which was again odd, and headed back to the village to let the mayor know of their success only to find he had fled, leaving behind a letter confessing he was the one who had flooded Old Crestwood during the Blight, knowing there were still villagers there, to try and stop the sickness spreading.

It was a horribly pragmatic act and, though Alistair knew it had possibly saved the surviving villagers, he didn’t have to like it. Part of him wanted to chase the mayor down but meeting Stroud was more important and likely Anora wouldn't thank him for any interference.

In hindsight, Alistair shouldn’t have been the first one into the caves, when they knew Stroud was hiding from the Grey Wardens; he had probably been able to sense Alistair coming for some distance and so ending up with a swordpoint at his throat wasn’t that surprising. He was glad he hadn't brought Blackwall along too.

Hawke chose that moment to intercede. “Relax,” she said. “I told you I would bring the Inquisitor.”

Stroud frowned at him, a flicker of recognition crossing his face, before he withdrew his blade. “My apologies, Inquisitor,” he said, with a heavy emphasis on the title. “I am at your service.”

Alistair smiled, forcing himself not to raise a hand to his throat to check he wasn’t bleeding. “No need to apologise. I should probably count myself lucky you didn’t run the unexpected Warden through. Maker, that would be an embarrassing way to go.”

The other Warden didn’t return his smile, instead giving him a searching look before turning away, pacing as he spoke. “After my friend Hawke here killed Corypheus, Weisshaupt was complacent but, well, you know the abilities of an archdemon. I feared the same would be true of Corypheus.”

Alistair nodded. He didn’t know how much Stroud, or Weisshaupt for that matter, knew about the Architect but he had come to the same conclusion.

Stroud continued, “My investigation uncovered clues but no proof. Then, not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling.”

“You believed it was related,” Alistair said. He remembered his concerns when Blackwall had told him about hearing singing.

It wasn’t a question but Stroud nodded all the same. “It seemed too much to be a coincidence.” Then he frowned, “Surely you have heard it too?”

Alistair winced. “Ah, my darkspawn sense is notoriously weak. For once it’s been to my benefit, if the same applies here. I didn’t recognise what I was feeling; I assumed the Calling would be… more obvious?”

“And from what I’ve heard, I’m guessing this is a bad thing,” Hawke interjected. “But I don’t recall you telling me about all this.”

“It was a Grey Warden matter,” Stroud said shortly. “I was bound by an oath of secrecy.” He gave Alistair another searching look.

“I haven’t shared any Warden secrets with the Inquisition,” he said defensively.

Stroud shrugged. “Still, the Wardens feared who would stand against the next Blight if we all fell.”

“And then they do something desperate,” Hawke said. “Which is, of course, what Corypheus wants.”

“Warden-Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perished,” Stroud explained. “When I protested the plans as madness, they turned on me and I was exiled.”

Alistair could only imagine how badly a blood magic ritual being guided by a darkspawn Magister might go, but at least this approach showed Corypheus couldn’t influence the Wardens directly. That was some relief.

Stroud told him all Wardens had gathered at a Tevinter ritual tower in the Western Approach and asked Alistair to assist in investigating. "When I heard you were the Inquisitor, I was certain you would be willing to help."

Alistair definitely was but he had another matter to attend to whilst they were in Ferelden so told them to go ahead to Skyhold and he would catch them up. The Iron Bull had brought him a message from the Ben-Hassrath, seeking an alliance with the Inquisition, which seemed to surprise even himself. It would truly be a big step by the Qunari to make a full alliance with any power. It probably helped that, unlike a nation, the Inquisition had a definite goal which aligned with the Qunari, but they still had some significant philosophical differences.

The war council had approved though, keeping red lyrium out of the hands of the Venatori was a worthwhile cause, and they were to meet a delegation on the Storm Coast. Cassandra headed back to Skyhold with Hawke and Stroud whilst Alistair met up with Iron Bull and his Chargers on route.

When they arrived at the rendezvous point, they were met by Bull's contact, and Alistair was surprised to find he was an elf. Sharp-featured, almost to the point of gauntness, Alistair would have felt uncomfortable if Bull hadn’t greeted him so warmly.

Gatt turned to Alistair, “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Inquisitor,” he said. “Hissrad’s reports say you’re doing good work.”

Alistair was flustered for a moment, not least by the title Gatt had given Bull. He didn’t think he’d heard that one before. “Hissrad?” he asked, ignoring the sideways gaze he received from the elf.

Iron Bull explained it as translating to ‘Keeper of Illusions’ but Gatt was blunter. “It means liar,” he said. Alistair got the impression it was supposed to bother him but Bull had always been upfront about his job and, given he had spent the best part of a year fighting alongside an assassin who’d been actually hired to kill him, lying didn’t seem that big an issue. 

Gatt explained the Qunari dreadnought, Berethlok, would remain out of view, and out-of-range of any Venatori mages, until they signalled the coast was, literally, clear. For the operation to succeed, they needed to wipe out the nearby Venatori encampments simultaneously so the dreadnought had a clear run to the smuggling ship. Bull admitted it was a risky plan, but it wasn’t worse than the Venatori making a slave army of red lyrium infused warriors.

They agreed Bull's Chargers would take one camp, whilst Bull would stay with Gatt and Alistair's group to handle the other.

Alistair had a chance to talk to Gatt whilst Bull briefed the Chargers, asked him how an elf had ended up serving the Qun. Gatt told him the story of how Iron Bull had freed him from a Tevinter magister. It was sadly a familiar tale, echoing Fiona’s upbringing, the fate of those elves Loghain had sold into slavery to finance his civil war, and even what Varric would tell of one of his friends from Kirkwall. Still, there was something about Gatt which rubbed him up the wrong way, though Alistair understood being loyal to the people who had saved you.

As they moved out, Gatt commented how Bull had given his Chargers to the easier target. It could have been friendly teasing but it felt like more than that. Still, they also easily dealt with their Venatori's watch-posts and the main camp wasn't that well-defended. The Chargers’ signal went up as they were finishing off their fight but, as they lit the fire to signal the dreadnoughts, they saw a large number of Venatori marching towards the other camp, and the Chargers.

They had to choose between the Qunari dreadnought, and the alliance it would bring, and the lives of the Chargers. Bull looked conflicted and looking at Gatt’s expectant pose, Alistair wondered if it had all been a test. Had he known there was another group of Venatori? Had the Ben-Hassrath predicted which camp Bull would send the Chargers too? Alistair felt he should have known better but he had hoped his previous experiences with Sten would count for something. Still, he wasn't prepared to sacrifice his people because the Qun had chosen to withhold information.

Bull looked devastated as Gatt berated him for the choice and Alistair made a mental note to see what he could do about it. Perhaps it was time to follow up the reports of a high dragon in the Western Approach, maybe take Dorian along too if their conversation last time they had ventured out together had been anything to go by.

They watched from the cliff edge as the Venatori on the shore took aim at the dreadnought. Just as Alistair was starting to wonder what they would do about the smuggling operation now, the dreadnought exploded under the mages’ onslaught, taking out the smuggling ship with it and even some of the forces on the shore. Had that been the plan all along? A victory by any means necessary?

The council were unhappy about the loss of the alliance but Josephine agreed it would have been bad for the Inquisition to be known for letting its people get killed. The Chargers weren’t the only mercenaries working for them and that sort of thing got around.

Worse, when Gatt visited Skyhold to confirm there would be no alliance, he made a point of reminding Bull he was now Tal-Vashoth. Alistair only vaguely understood what that must mean to him and wasn't sure what he should say. It had been his orders which had caused this, after all. Perhaps it would have been better to support the Qunari alliance? This was exactly why he never wanted the responsibility of command, but if not him then who, and would they have done what was necessary to protect the mages in Redcliffe.

Back in Skyhold, Cassandra told him how Inquisition scouts, tracking down the remaining Seekers on her behalf, had traced them to Caer Oswin, home of Bann Loren, and asked if he would help her investigate.

They arrived at the castle and were promptly attacked. Cassandra recognised them as Promisers, explaining how the Order of Fiery Promise were a cult with a long-running feud against the Seekers, who used forbidden magics to pose as Seekers. It didn’t say anything good about the condition of the missing Seekers and indeed, moments later, they found the body of a Seeker, who almost looked as though they had been tortured to death.

Cassandra was furious, swearing vengeance as they pushed forward into a courtyard where they encountered more of the attackers along with a letter from Lord Samson of the Red Templars, offering the Seekers to the Promisers as they were ‘resistant’ to red lyrium and demanding their loyalty in return. Alistair still hadn’t told anyone his theory about the red lyrium so he didn’t push the subject, only wondering how Corypheus had found that out. He probably didn’t want to know.

She was more concerned with how Corypheus had managed to capture the Seekers in the first place. Given the Lord Seeker had been the one to lead the Templars away, it didn’t seem all that surprising to Alistair but he understood Cassandra wanted to think the best of her fellow Seekers. They were her second family, in the same way the Wardens had been to him.

They searched the castle and, in one of the upper rooms, found one of the Seekers alive and conscious but looking decidedly unwell.

“Daniel!” Cassandra called out as she recognised him.

He struggled to respond, telling them, “They... put a demon inside me. It’s tearing me up.”

He didn’t look possessed to Alistair’s eyes, no unnatural aura or glowing blue eyes. Cassandra evidently thought the same, “You can’t be possessed. That’s impossible.”

It probably wasn’t, given they had already encountered possessed Templars but Daniel explained that wasn’t what he meant. “They... fed me things. I can feel it growing.”

With Cassandra distracted by her friend’s condition, Alistair tried to focus on their original mission. “Are the rest of the Seekers here?”

“The Lord Seeker,” Daniel managed, between fighting for shuddering breaths.

Cassandra tried to assure him they would look for the Lord Seeker but Daniel shook his head. “Lucius betrayed us, Cassandra,” he said. “He sent us here, one by one.”

Alistair was only partially surprised to learn Lord Lucius was behind the disappearance of the Seekers but it was clearly a heavy blow to Cassandra. Still, as he watched, she pushed away her emotions.

Daniel begged them not to leave him this way; Alistair turned away to give Cassandra some privacy for their goodbyes and so he heard rather than saw her mercy stroke. She strode past him, continuing up the castle and he followed without looking back. Her voice broke as she explained Daniel had been her apprentice then hardened again. “Now we find Lord Seeker Lucius.”

Their route led them through the castle and out the other side, into a ruined courtyard and another attacking group of Promisers before they found Lucius himself. Although Alistair doubted there was anything the man could say to justify his actions, he knew Cassandra needed answers and Lucius had a lot to answer for.

He tried to use the fact the Seekers of Truth had been the first Inquisition, that their goals had been the same as his now but it rang hollow in the light of his alliance with Corypheus. Lucius admitted they had made a mistake in creating the Chantry and the Circles of Magi but Alistair would have given his argument more weight if he had made it five, ten years earlier when it might have made a difference.

Cassandra seemed to be struggling to make sense of it as Lucius insisted the Seekers were abominations, who needed to be stopped. He surely didn’t mean literally, though Daniel had spoken of a demon...

“You don’t believe me,” Lucius said. “See for yourself.” He pulled a book from a pouch and held it out to Cassandra. “The secrets of our Order, passed to me after our former Lord Seeker was slain.”

She took it but tried to plead with him for reason. Unfortunately he was beyond that, telling them he had created a new order to replace the old and how Corypheus would end the world to create something better. Alistair wasn’t certain what kind of mental twists it took to believe what Corypheus would make would be in any way an improvement and he didn’t want to know.

Lucius offered Cassandra the chance to join him and she replied with her blade. It was a short fight, though the Lord Seeker didn't hesitate to use the full range of his abilities against them. Alistair was glad he had resisted the temptation to bring along more mages than just Solas.

Cassandra was withdrawn on their way back and Alistair gave her the distance she so obviously wished. He even waited a day after they returned, to ensure she had enough time to read the book and come to turns with what they had found.

She had the book on the desk in front of her, looked up from it with a deep sigh as he entered. Alistair felt awkward; he had never had Kallian’s easy way with people, wasn’t sure what to say as Cassandra explained how the book had been passed down from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker since the days of the first Inquisition so he fell back on humour. “It sounds riveting,” he joked, “you should have no trouble sleeping tonight.”

She shook her head, then asked, "You are familiar with the rite of Tranquility?"

"Of course." It was one of the cruelest punishments the Circle inflicted on mages, taking away their very personality, making them compliant and biddable. What did that have to do with the Seekers though?

“I always thought it a necessary evil,” Cassandra admitted. “What finally began the mage rebellion was the discovery the rite could be reversed.”

He didn’t remember Fiona saying anything about that but Cassandra explained Lord Seeker Lambert had covered it up, harshly. Then she revealed one of the Seekers’ deepest secrets, they had always known how to reverse the rite.

More than that, they had created the rite. Cassandra reminded him how she had described her vigil to become a Seeker, months spent emptying herself of all emotion. She had actually been made Tranquil and then the vigil had summoned a spirit of faith to touch her mind.

Alistair struggled to understand. “You’re possessed?” That probably explained the Lord Seeker's comment that the Seekers were abominations and Daniel's belief that the Promisers had put a demon inside him, it was probably how they mimicked the Seekers.

“No,” she said. “The touch broke the Tranquility... and gave me my abilities.” He forced himself not to interrupt as she explained how the Seekers had kept the secret even as his mind raced. The mind touch of a spirit; did that mean Cole could reverse it?

“There’s more,” she said. “Lucius was not wrong about the Order. I always thought I would rebuild the Seekers once this was over, but now I’m not sure they deserve it.”

He could understand that. The Seekers had not only failed to prevent the worst of the Templars’ atrocities but had turned a blind eye to so many things. Still, once Corypheus was dealt with, they would still need to find a way for the mages to be accepted in society and perhaps a rebuilt Seeker Order could succeed where the Templars had failed. If they already recognised the difference between spirits and demons, they could come to an understanding. 

“Don’t give up on the idea,” he told her. “You have the chance to make something better.”

Her expression turned hopeful and Alistair left her to her plans.


	19. Chapter 19

It took a few days to persuade the war council of the importance of searching for the missing Wardens and to prepare a small group to accompany him to the Western Approach. In the meantime, they also sent out agents to chase down Mayor Dedrick and Alistair got a chance to catch up with Sera alone, to talk about the Verchiel business.

Although she would clearly rather Harmond had died to pay for his behaviour, she seemed satisfied with his punishment. “His kind really hate a leash,” she said. “Good one, you.”

Alistair blinked, not used to being praised for his decisions. Even when the council were happy with how things turned out, they were never that effusive. “Just be careful in the future,” he told her. “The whole business could easily have gone worse.”

There was a pause, as she seemed to be expecting more. “You’re not going to tell me all the things I did wrong?” she asked, head tilted to one side.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one more used to being criticized than praised “No, just a little more information next time, please,” he told her.

She wrinkled her nose but reluctantly agreed. “Well, you know where to find me if you need me.”

He was glad he had planned to take Cole with them to investigate the Wardens, it would do Sera good to have time to think things over. 

By the time the Inquisition forces arrived at the ritual tower, Hawke and Stroud informed him the Wardens had already begun their ritual.

Hawke let the Wardens take point, bringing up the rear with Cole and Varric. They saw a small group gathered round a protesting man; all but one of them dressed as Warden mages, with a demon standing at each of their sides. The ground between them was stained with blood and bodies were piled up on one edge of the courtyard.

Standing on a small dais above them was a Tevinter, who reminded the one protesting of the Warden’s oath, though he didn’t sound as though he believed in it himself. The Warden mage killed his companion and a demon appeared, which he then bound at the Tevinter’s urging whilst the other mage himself made his own casting gesture.

As another pair of Wardens stepped forward, Alistair couldn’t stand and watch any longer but it seemed the Magister had been expecting him. He introduced himself as “Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service.”

Alistair tried to reason with the Wardens that the Tevinter was using them but he demonstrated his control over them. Erimond admitted Corypheus was behind the false Calling and explained, with evident satisfaction, how he had manipulated the Warden Commander.

“I went to Clarel full of sympathy and, together, we came up with a plan… Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads and kill the Old Gods before they awake.”

Alistair shuddered. Knowing as he did, that the Old Gods could be saved, the thought of killing them unnerved him a little, even if it would mean no more Blights. It wasn’t as though they would be easy to find either or the darkspawn would have done so already and there were still hundreds upon thousands of _them_ within the Deep Roads, you just needed to look at the state of the dwarven kingdom to know that.

He didn’t want the Tevinter to know about any of that though so he turned to a different distraction. “I wondered where Corypheus was going to get a demon army from,” he said. “Not that this plan’s going to work for him any better than the one to destabilise Orlais.”

Erimond looked confused at his lack of surprise. “You knew about it, did you? Well, then, here you are…” He gloated about how the binding ritual he had taught the Warden mages turned them into his master’s slaves but also admitted the ritual here had only been a test before he tried it with the rest of the Wardens.

If that were true, there was a chance killing him would free the Wardens from their compulsion so Alistair reached for his sword but even as he did so Erimond gestured and pain lanced through his mark.

“The Elder One showed me how to deal with you,” the mage said, “in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again.”

Alistair tried to breathe through the pain; it was no worse than when he had faced down Corypheus, except he had started to get used to the mark not hurting constantly.

The biggest difference, of course, was that this time he wasn’t alone and defenceless. A crossbow bolt flew towards the Tevinter and bounced off a barrier but, with Erimond’s attention divided, the pain eased.

“That mark you bear?” the mage said. “The Anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my master. He’s been forced to find other ways to access the Fade.”

The mark would allow him to cross the Veil? That was news to Alistair, but it made sense with what Solas had told him before. Though, given his previous experiences in the Fade, he would be more than happy never to return, it gave him some pleasure to know it was inconveniencing Corypheus.

Varric loosed another bolt and, between that and Erimond’s focus on his own voice, Alistair was able to focus on the power of the Anchor.

“When I bring him your head, his gratitude will be…”

He pushed the rift energy outwards, knocking the Tevinter down. Erimond pulled himself to his feet and fled, leaving them to battle the controlled mages and the demons already created.

Hawke was angry the mages had refused to listen to reason and Alistair and Stroud attempted to defend them though they agreed the Wardens had made the wrong decision. She was right that, as much as they had been misled on the exact details of the ritual, they had freely chosen their course of action, but she couldn’t understand what it meant to be a Warden.

Stroud believed he knew where the other Wardens were; Erimond had fled in the direction of Adamant Fortress, an abandoned Warden Keep. He and Hawke agreed to scout ahead and confirm this before meeting him back at Skyhold to make further preparations. They had to assume the worst, that they would be faced by an army of demons under Corypheus' control, but also prepared to intervene if there was still time.

Morrigan took one look at his expression and didn’t even mock him, which said something about how bad he must have looked. She left him alone with Kieran and for the first time Alistair felt the weight of what they had done to conceive him ten years ago. Should he tell him about the Wardens' plan for the remaining Old Gods? His son had often known more than he should but he had never shown any signs of remembering his previous life, what would he know about them?

Kieran seemed to recognise something was wrong, he was often surprisingly insightful, and cuddled into Alistair's side to tell him a story he'd heard, Maker only knew where, about an ancient Avvar hero and a werewolf. Alistair half-wondered if he were missing a metaphor somewhere but for now he would just appreciate spending time with his son.

Solas was angry about the summoning of demons on such a large scale but was interested in Alistair's speculation about if the bound Wardens could be saved. He didn't want to break Connor's confidence but described how he knew a mage who had been freed from actual possession and Fiona shared her own experience. Alistair wondered at their closeness, which seemed like more than just friendliness. Part of him wanted to warn Solas away from his mother but he doubted such overprotectiveness would be well-received if she heard about it.

He was reminded of his promise to Mother Giselle, to consider meeting Dorian's family retainer and broached the subject. Dorian was irritated by the tone of the letter and suspected the ‘retainer’ would be more likely to try to kidnap him than to talk him round so Alistair offered to accompany him.

It was clear there was bad blood between Dorian and his father but Alistair would have given anything to have spoken with Maric for real so he didn’t want his friend to waste this chance to reconcile with his family.

Dorian reluctantly agreed to go. “If it’s a trap, we kill everyone. If not, I send this retainer back to my father with a message he can stick his alarm in his ‘wit’s end.’”

It an attempt to put him more at ease, and to give them a chance to check for Venatori, Alistair arranged to them to visit Teagan first. He hadn't seen his uncle since before the events at the Conclave, though they had exchanged letters. Connor accompanied them, intending to stay at the castle whilst Alistair and Dorian continued onto the Gull and Lantern.

Dorian was subdued during the journey, though Connor had some success bring up contentious points of magical theory for the Tevinter to rant at the weakness of southern scholarship.

Alistair had feared there might be some tension when they got to Redcliffe, though he hoped he knew Teagan well enough to be sure the Arl wouldn't hold the actions of Dorian's countryfolk against him. Fortunately Dorian was his usual charming self over their meal, drawing Connor out and Alistair watched as Teagan relaxed once it was clear they both trusted the Tevinter.

When they headed to the tavern, Dorian grew tense again. Teagan's guards had confirmed there were no large forces in the area but didn't mean it couldn't be an ambush, even an assassin. The main room of the tavern was unexpectedly empty when they arrived, unusual but not out of the realms of possibility given the time of day. Still Alistair was alert for any danger.

It turned out it was a set-up, but not the trap he was half-expecting. There was no family retainer, just Magister Pavus himself, who appeared at the foot of the stairs.

Dorian greeted his father with anger and Alistair tried to back out the door but Dorian insisted he stay. “I want a witness. I want someone to hear the truth.”

And so it all came out. Dorian explained that he liked men, as though that should come as a surprise given the way he and the Iron Bull flirted, and his father disapproved. Alistair could’t exactly judge, there had been that time in Denerim when Zevran had practically invited him to an orgy, though would have thought him liking Qunari was more of an issue, as a Tevinter, but it was hardly his place to say. 

He couldn’t blame Dorian for being angry his family had prioritised their social standing over his happiness but the part of him that had always longed for a family, even after the disaster that meeting Goldanna had been, won out. “Won’t you give him a chance?” He had been angry at Fiona at first, for abandoning him, but she had only done what she thought was best.

Dorian’s next words took much of his sympathy from the Magister. “ _He_ taught me to hate blood magic,” he said, scathingly. “But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refusing to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to _change_ me.”

He sounded close to tears and the very thought left Alistair cold. The Magister tried to justify his actions but how could anyone justify doing something like that to their own son? 

It was clear Dorian didn't want to speak with his father any further and Alistair wanted to respect that but he could see the Magister was distraught at Dorian leaving and he knew Dorian would have no closure until he’d heard his father out. "Are you sure you want to leave it like this?" he asked and Dorian turned back.

“If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition,” the Magister started.

“I joined the Inquisition because it was the right thing to do,” Dorian insisted. “Once I had a father who would have known that.”

He turned to leave as the Magister said, “Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed.” He sounded truly regretful. “I only wanted to talk to him… To ask him to forgive me.”

Alistair left them to speak, though he hovered outside the door, listening for any sounds of fighting. It wasn't too long before Dorian followed, looking drained but not unhappy, though he refused to speak about it and took his evening meal in his own room.

It hadn’t been the reunion Alistair had hoped to see and he wondered if this was how Kallian had felt after they had met Goldanna. He returned to Skyhold disheartened and, in an attempt to distract himself, he offered his services for any little tasks.

Josephine asked if he would assist her on a private matter; she had attempted to allow her family to trade again in Orlais but her couriers were murdered on route to Val Royeaux and the documents they carried were destroyed.

Leliana's spies had found a comte in Val Royeaux who claimed to know who was behind it and was willing to tell her if she was accompanied by the Inquisitor.

Alistair wasn’t keen on returning to Val Royeaux but, for Josephine, he would make the effort. They met the Comte Boisvert at his mansion, where he greeted them effusively. The chairs looked too delicate to take his weight and Alistair felt out-of-place in his armour, terrified he would knock over some expensive ornament and break it.

“Have you heard of the House of Repose?” the Comte asked.

The name meant nothing to Alistair but Josephine looked shocked. “The assassin’s league?”

The Comte leaned in, as though to impart a deep secret, and explained his associates had obtained a copy of a contract, which he pushed towards Josephine.

It demanded the life of anyone who tried to overturn the Montilyet family’s trading exile in Orlais and Alistair was concerned that meant Josephine was in danger too.

Comte Boisvert explained the contract had been taken out by a noble family, the Du Paraquettes and Josephine’s frown deepened. “But the Du Paraquettes died out as a noble line over sixty years ago!”

“Indeed,” said the Comte, “but the contract was signed a hundred and nine years ago. Unpleasant as it may be, the House of Repose is merely fulfilling its contractual duties.”

Having seen Zevran work around the same requirements, Alistair didn’t have a lot of sympathy for the assassins. Instead, he promised Josephine he would help defend her until they could straighten the matter out.

Josephine already had an idea of how to resolve it: the Du Paraquettes still had common descendents, one of whom could be ennobled to annul the contract.

At this, the Comte revealed his hand. He was actually one of the assassins, having knocked the real Comte out for this subterfuge, in order to give Josephine the courtesy of an explanation before killing her.

Alistair stood, blocking the imposter from getting to Josephine, though he claimed he had not come to spill blood.

As they tried to leave, they heard muffled cries from within a cabinet which had to be the actual Comte Boisvert. Even though the lock had been damaged, fortunately Varric had brought the necessary tools and they were able to free him.

Back in Skyhold, he found Josephine admired a bunch of flowers on her desk. She explained Blackwall had been collecting them for her regularly and seemed moved by his thoughtfulness.

Though she was clearly still shaken by the news, she apologised for getting him caught up in an assassin’s plot, but Alistair brushed it aside. Then she was all business again, talking about she’d tracked down the last of the Du Paraquettes and just needed a few things to make one of them into gentry: a noble sponsor, a judge to provide the necessary documentation and a minister to ratify it. 

It all sounded very long-winded, as Leliana pointed out, and meanwhile there were still assassins prepared to strike. She offered a quicker alternative: her agents could destroy the original contract in the House of Repose's vaults, but Josephine didn’t want to risk Inquisition lives on a personal matter. 

More lives would be at risk if she were to be assassinated and leave them without the benefit of her skills but Alistair didn’t think she would want to hear that so instead joked they could just hire a better class of assassin.

Leliana raised an eyebrow at him. "If you have a way of getting in contact with Zevran, please be my guest."

Still, the decision remained and Alistair told them he would have to consider both options. As much as he was in favour of keeping her safe, Josephine had a point about using Inquisition resources. Ultimately Morrigan helped him make up his mind pointing out as much as they might speak of their honour, no assassin would work for free, or for a hundred year old down-payment. If they somehow succeeded in their goal, what might they demand of the Du Paraquettes, especially if Josephine’s plan to ennoble them was already in motion.

He took Leliana up on her suggestion and she soon reported back that her agents had been successful. Although Josephine was relieved she and her family would be safe, she clearly wished they had been able to resolve it without bloodshed, confiding in him that she used to be a Bard, like Leliana. Alistair couldn’t imagine Josephine as an assassin and indeed she shared her regrets at not solve a situation diplomatically, which had led to another bard’s death. 

Still, she thanked him for his assistance but it was hardly the clear cut victory he had been hoping for and had also brought up another matter he had to discuss with Leliana. "Did you mean what you said about getting in touch with Zevran?" he asked.

She blinked at him in apparent surprise, which was strange enough, it was unusual to catch Leliana off-balance. "Do you actually know where he is?" she demanded. "I suppose you know where Kallian is too..."

"Well they were together last I heard," he said. "But no," he continued hurriedly, as he saw her expression harden, "I don't know where they are exactly, but I do have a way of contacting them."

After passing the details onto her, he caught up with Dorian, still conflicted following his meeting with his father. “I don’t know if I can forgive him,” he said.

Alistair couldn’t imagine how he must feel, that his own father would try to change him with blood magic... “It’s a lot to forgive,” he said. “But you don’t have to do it straight away, you know. Just keep talking.”

Dorian looked up with a frown. “It’s a start, I suppose.” He looked away, out of the window. “My father’s a good man, deep down. But he’ll never understand me. Still I thank you for trying, though I don’t know what you must think of me after that display.”

“I think you’ve done your best with a difficult situation,” he said. “And I’m glad to have you on my side.”

The Tevinter smiled and headed off, claiming he was going to drink himself into a stupor.

Vivienne offered a simpler mission; she needed the heart of a wyvern for an alchemical preparation, and not just any wyvern but specifically a snowy white one. Inquisition scouts had identified some wyverns to the north of the Exalted Plains and, whilst wyverns weren't dragons, perhaps it would be an appropriate distraction for Iron Bull too.

It wasn't a difficult trip, just the kind of straightforward objective he had wanted and both Bull and Dorian seemed to appreciate the break from their own concerns. Unfortunately for his and Varric's ears, they appreciated it, and each other, quite loudly, especially the night after they encountered an actual high dragon.

When Alistair returned to Vivienne with the heart, she seemed surprised that he had met her request, let alone so quickly. He hadn't expected her to indulge his curiosity in what she intended to do with it, or else had thought he would get a highly technical explanation designed to go over his head and make him feel stupid.

Instead she quickly added the heart to her potion before leading him to one of the guest rooms where a man he recognised as Duke Bastian, at whose party they had met, lay apparently seriously ill. She fed him the potion and the man stirred briefly saying, “Vivienne?”

The Duke promised her it would be all right but the stillness which followed told Alistair the potion, whatever it was, had come too late. Vivienne's shoulders shook as though with repressed tears and Alistair felt like an intruder. He quickly made his excuses to leave her to her grief.

Of course, when she found him next, she spoilt any momentary goodwill by pushing to be allowed to give Kieran lessons. Vivienne was too powerful to turn away her assistance though Morrigan would eviscerate her if she got near her son, and him if she found out he'd allowed it, but on the other hand he felt she needed the distraction.

As Alistair pushed down his annoyance, an idea came to him. Kieran wouldn't have much use for her instruction anyway but he could think of someone else who would benefit from her confidence in her abilities at least. "Kieran has teachers already," he said, feigning regret. "But I'm sure my cousin, Connor, would appreciate the offer. He misses his lessons in the Circle."

He would have to watch out for the lad, but Connor had lived outside the Circle long enough to look at the system critically and not just fall for Vivienne's over-romanticised version. She was predictably delighted to be of assistance.

By this point, preparations were well underway for moving on Adamant Fortress. Scouts had returned confirming the presence of the Wardens but hadn’t been able to get close enough to see evidence of demons. It would not be easy to take the fortress, which had stood against the darkspawn since the Second Blight.

Alistair remembered Warden-Commander Clarel and found it hard to imagine the serious woman he had met in passing several years before summoning demons. He could hardly believe any Warden would have sunk to that; blood magic was one thing, especially when they were mostly fighting darkspawn, but demons were quite another.

Cole found Alistair up on the battlement when he had met with Hawke. "Grieving, guilty, the grey lost."

He looked up at the spirit, Compassion, Kieran had named him, and that felt right. Cole always tried to help ease others' pain.

"Watching, waiting, when will it get easier?"

Alistair shook his head, were they his thoughts or those of the other Wardens? “I should have done something sooner.” He should have followed up Hawke’s contact as soon as she told him her concerns and now the guilt burned in his gut. “Why did they do this?”

Cole looked up at him from under the deep brim of his hat. "Hearing the Call, hurting, hoping, he gave them a reason."  
He shuddered, Corypheus must have planned this from the moment he awoke in the Wardens’ prison. Had he allowed Hawke and her companions to believe they’d killed him, as Flemeth had, to allay their suspicions? 

Alistair was only glad he was far enough outside the usual command structure that he hadn't received any orders from Clarel. But why had no else questioned Erimond’s fortuitous arrival, the sheer coincidence of his knowing a blood magic ritual which would help? Had the false Calling thrown them so much? Well, Corypheus' lackey would pay. 

It made him sick to think how supporters of the Chantry, who'd always hated the existence of mages outside the Circles, would feel vindicated that the Wardens' mages had turned to such lengths and he feared how many Wardens had already been lost to blood sacrifices. He could only hope he would be believed when he told them the truth.

Alistair received a message from Dagna about something she had developed to fight demons and when he went to visit he found Sera with her. When he heard her calling Dagna ‘Widdle’ he mentally filed their conversation under ‘things I never needed to know’ along with several conversations he’d overheard between Kallian and Zevran and most of the conversations he’d had with Isabela, but he took the freshly engraved sword.

Just before they left for Adamant Fortress, Leliana came to find him. She'd had a reply to her letter. "Kallian tells me I am to ensure you survive long enough that she can shout at you herself."

Kallian hadn't replied to any of _his_ letters and Alistair felt a pang of guilt. She had taken so naturally to command during the Blight that he had never realised how hard it must have been for her, thrust suddenly into the position. He should have done more to support her. "I intend to," he told Leliana.


	20. Chapter 20

It took some time to move their troops to Adamant Fortress and they held a final strategy meeting before they reached it. They had trebuchets loaned by a supporter in Jader, siege engines and rams for the gates so the plan was for Inquisition forces to lay siege to the fortress.

Leliana had found records of Adamant's construction, allowing them to identify choke points they could use to limit the number of forces they would face at one time. If the main force could cut off reinforcements, holding back the Wardens and any demons they had already summoned, he should be able to get to Clarel, hoping it wasn't too late to try to talk some reason into her.

"No secret passageways we can use this time to avoid a frontal assault?" he asked.

"Not unless you, or the Wardens here, know something I don't," she said.

Alistair had never been to Adamant so he couldn't help and he was sure if Stroud or Fiona knew anything they would have mentioned it already. Of course, Leliana still believed Blackwall had always been a Warden, and perhaps the original Blackwall would have known something, but that was another matter. He shook his head. "Sadly not."

"Our soldiers know the risks, Inquisitor," said Josephine. "And they know what they're fighting for."

For a future without the threat of Corypheus hanging over them. He couldn't be allowed to subvert the Wardens nor build a demon army, though with that plan foiled they wouldn't know what the ancient Magister would try next. Once this was over, they would need to investigate further but they had to get through this first.

Josephine agreed with him that some Wardens might be sympathetic to their cause, though Leliana wasn't certain they would be willing to turn against Clarel directly. "Though perhaps if it is you appealing to them, that might make the difference." They could hope, even as she warned, "The mages, however, are slaves to Corypheus. They will fight to the death."

Alistair wasn't sure he was prepared to accept that. Warden mages were a mix of apostates, either lifelong ones like Bethany Hawke or runaways as Anders had been, those recruited directly out of the Circle, as Fiona had been and a few Dalish, like Velanna. None of them had had easy lives, even compared to the usual story which led someone to the Grey Wardens, and it was a tragedy that Corypheus' scheming should see them enslaved in such a fashion. He refused to believe it couldn't be reversed.

It was fortunate their alliance with Orlais allowed them to move such a large army through their lands and, as the Inquisition formed up to march on Adamant Fortress, Alistair marvelled at the forces they had brought to bear. They had not wasted the time preparing, all their troops were well-armed, armoured and provisioned, even if no battle plan survived contact with the enemy.

He had left his family back in Skyhold; Fiona insisted she was too old for pitched battle and Morrigan seemed distracted by her own studies. As much as he would like them at his back, it was easier now knowing they were safe.

Cullen wouldn't allow the option of him approaching under flag of truce, even though their opponents might be willing to listen to a Warden. Instead he insisted on Alistair waiting until their forces had engaged and cleared him a space; neither demons nor controlled mages were likely to pay much attention to an attempt at parlay.

The Inquisition started unloading their trebuchets from range, covering for the ground forces as they closed the distance and archers on the battlements, who presumably weren't being controlled, launched volleys of flaming arrows in response. The Wardens were clearly well prepared for such an attack but nonetheless they were able to get soldiers up there on ladders, including Hawke who had insisted on joining one such group.

It didn't take long before the Inquisition forces breached one of the smaller gates and there was Alistair's opportunity. Now they could see the demons, and he admitted there had been some wisdom in Cullen's decision to hold him back. If there were any uncontrolled Wardens here they would not be given the opportunity to speak with him. Alistair prayed it wasn't too late but, even if they were, the demon army had to be defeated sooner or later and any strength they could deny Corypheus would be worth it.

Alistair took only a small group with him, his close companions, knowing speed of movement would be as necessary as force of arms. Cullen told him they would hold the main force off him as long as they could but they needed more assistance on the battlements where heavy resistance was preventing the Inquisition getting a foothold.

"If anything happens, it's been good knowing you," he told Cullen.

"It's been an honour fighting beside you," Cullen replied. "But we're all going to make it through this."

Alistair wanted to fight directly through to find Commander Clarel immediately, or even Magister Erimond, but he didn't know where to start looking and even he couldn't take on an entire fortress, so he took Cullen's suggestion and found steps heading up, which he hoped would lead to the battlements. They were defended by both Wardens and demons, neither of which were willing to listen to him. If blood magic were involved, he feared even the warriors might be being influenced so he was relieved to encounter a small group who were resisting being sacrificed.

Stroud evidently recognised them, calling out, "Warden Chernoff, we are not enemies."

"Why should I trust you, Stroud?" the man returned. "You're a traitor to the Wardens, Clarel called for your death!"

"She's calling for yours too," Alistair told them, "with this ritual. If you can't trust him, can you at least trust me?"

"Warden Alistair," Chernoff said, clearly realising who he was. "I heard you were with the Inquisition now."

"I am," Alistair said. "The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, not to kill Wardens. If you fall back you won't be harmed."

"Or you could join us and fight the demons," Blackwall added.

They quickly agreed and Alistair left them with Blackwall to vouch for them and pushed on, reaching the battlements and finding Hawke there, trying to keep a rage demon off the ladders long enough for the next wave of Inquisition soldiers to make it through.

They joined her and it didn't take long to clear the entire stretch of enemies and allow Inquisition troops to start streaming through. Alistair still tried to put the controlled Warden mages down without killing them but he knew many of them would still die.

He needed to find Clarel and, with the extra support, Alistair was able to get orientated and reached the main courtyard where a group of assembled Wardens was gathered. Clarel stood on a high terrace with Magister Erimond at her side, the ritual to bind her already started as she made the blood sacrifice of an apparently willing volunteer.

The Venatori mage ordered the other Wardens to stop Alistair as he strode forward, outpacing his companions; this was his best chance to make Clarel, and the rest of them, see sense. "Wait!" he cried out, "You're doing exactly what he wants."

Clarel hesitated and half-turned, a frown upon her face.

"What?" Erimond said. "Fighting the Blight? Keeping the world safe from darkspawn? And I thought you called yourself a Warden."

"Enough of one to know who you really work for," Alistair replied.

"Ignore him," Erimond snarled at the mage commander. "Focus on the ritual."

Clarel had obviously recognised Alistair though. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd abandoned the Wardens for the Inquisition? We will make the sacrifices no-one else will. Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them."

Was that a jibe at how he had survived killing an Archdemon, a feat previously considered impossible. It didn't matter what she thought of him though, she seemed to believe what she was saying and he needed to make her understand. "Our warriors are dying in vain," he said.

"And then your Tevinter ally binds the mages to Corypheus," added Stroud.

For a moment Alistair thought they had got through to her with Corypheus' name. "But he's dead?" she protested, as at her side Erimond assured her they were only trying to distract her. She waved the ritual on and a rift began to form in the middle of the courtyard.

"Don't do this, Clarel," Alistair pleaded, as Stroud and Hawke added their voices to his. "I don't want to hurt anyone, but you can't do this. Some of you must realise this isn't right."

One of the Wardens spoke up, "The mages who've done the ritual, they're not right. Like puppets on a string."

"You cannot let fear sway your mind," Clarel argued, but there was a note of doubt in her voice.

Hawke must have heard it to as she pushed, "He's not afraid, you are."

"This is not the way," Stroud implored. "You have been tricked."

As more of the Wardens turned to look at her, Clarel's resolve visibly faltered. "Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges," she suggested to Erimond.

Clearly realising his plan was failing, Erimond turned on Alistair. "Or perhaps I should bring in a more reliable ally. My master sent me this to welcome you, Inquisitor!"

His staff tapped out a summons and, expecting another demon, Alistair was surprised to be faced with Corypheus' dragon.

Clarel was quick to react to the betrayal, casting a spell at the dragon but, as she ducked away from its return fire, Erimond fled. "Help the Inquisitor!" she commanded the surviving Wardens as she chased after the Venatori.

A Pride demon emerged from the open rift but there was no time to close it with the dragon wheeling overhead, even though it was clear whatever was on the other side was powerful as the rift pulsed with arcane energy.

Even Clarel's orders couldn't stop the possessed Wardens and their demons from attacking and they faced heavy opposition as they tried to catch up with her. Regretfully, Alistair fought through the controlled Wardens, striking only to cripple as much as he could, though he couldn't ask the same of his companions. Finally the path was clear and, dodging the dragon's harrying attacks, Alistair's group headed in the direction Erimond and Clarel had gone.

He heard her before he saw them, "You! You've destroyed the Grey Wardens."

They turned the last corner and saw Erimond struggling to stand, his staff out of reach. "You did that for yourself," he taunted her as she threw another spell at him. "You could have served a new god."

"I will never serve the Blight," she said, raising her staff for the final strike but the dragon took advantage of her distraction to grab her. It shook her back and forth, tossing her down onto the ground bloodied and broken. It crawled forward, eyes on Alistair, but it had disregarded her to its peril. Her blast struck its vulnerable underbelly and flung it over the edge but it also collapsed the walkway under them.

For a moment Alistair thought they would make it to solid ground but the ancient stone of the fortress could only take so much. As they fell, he reached out, trying hopelessly to catch hold of something and the Anchor flared, opening a portal which dropped them into the Fade.

It took a few moments for them all to take stock and understand what had happened. Stroud and Varric looked most ill-at-ease; as mages Dorian and Solas had experienced the Fade before and Alistair himself couldn't seem to stay out of it for more than a few years at a time. Still, Solas seemed impressed, "I never thought I would ever find myself here physically," he said. "I have never seen anywhere like it."

Hawke seemed less out-of-sorts than he would have expected, but then she had a history of weird experiences nearly equalling his own so it didn't surprise him when her next words were, "It's not how I remember the Fade, either."

Stroud suggested, if they could find the rift which corresponded to the one in the main courtyard, they would be able to return to the fortress through it.

Alistair turned to Solas for guidance, after all, the mage was always telling him about the time he spent in the Fade. "Solas, you're the expert on this place. What do you think?"

"The Fade is shaped by intent and emotion," the mage said. "Remain focused and it will lead you where you wish to go."

But would they get there in truth or would it be like the visions in the Circle Tower, or from the Magrallen, showing them what they wanted to see? Then again, the dark pools, guttering candles, and piles of skulls around them weren't exactly what he would have thought any of them wished for.

"The demon that controls this area is extremely powerful," Solas continued. "Some variety of fear, I would guess."

That wasn't much better but might be easier to recognise as false, Alistair could hope at least. But it wasn't fear he felt when a figure who looked very much like Divine Justinia stepped out in front of them.

"I greet you, Champion," she said and Alistair steeled himself for whatever came next.

"Divine Justinia," he said. "I don't mean to be rude, but I thought you were dead."

Stroud warned that she was likely a spirit, or even a demon, even as she shook her head. "You think my survival impossible, yet here you stand alive in the Fade yourselves."

She had a point but it didn't explain how she had found them, or why she was there.

"Surely you can understand our concerns," Hawke said, her hands on the hilts of her weapons.

"I am here to help you," the Divine, or the being who looked like her at least, said. "You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor."

He didn't, it was true, but how did she know that, or that he had been named 'Inquisitor' for that matter?

She explained that Alistair's missing memories of the Conclave had been stolen by a demon which served Corypheus, the Nightmare which fed off memories of fear and darkness. It must have fed well from the Wardens, dark dreams went with the territory. "When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you," she said. "Before you do anything else, you must recover it."

They fought through the spirits which appeared before them and slowly his memories of that day returned in flickers. " _Bring forth the sacrifice_." The Divine restrained, by magic, by Warden mages! " _Why are you doing this? You of all people_." He remembered his shock at finding Grey Wardens aiding an obvious darkspawn creature.

The orb glowing green in Corypheus' hand, its light washing over her. " _What's going on here?_ " She had taken advantage of his arrival to knock the orb out of Corypheus' grasp. It had rolled to his feet and the moment he touched it, it burned, the energy crashing through him. Corypheus' " _No!_ " as they were all flung into the Fade…

"So your mark did not come from Andraste," Stroud said. Had he seen the memories too? Had they all seen it?

Alistair found himself both disappointed and strangely relieved it hadn't been Andraste after all. Of course, Morrigan would laugh at him if he ever suggested he might have believed it but in truth the idea had been a weight as much as a blessing.

"Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City," the spirit of the Divine continued. "Not for the Old Gods, but for himself."

Which explained why he was happy to suggest the Grey Wardens kill them, who he had worshipped before. Perhaps he would even have allowed it, once they had served their purpose as his army.

"When you disrupted his plans, the orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead," she said.

"So it was all an accident then." It shouldn't make him feel better but somehow he felt less pressure to succeed as the leader of the Inquisition knowing it was dumb luck that had put him there.

The Divine suggested, if the Maker controlled all things, he was still responsible for this, but she didn't argue it very hard. "You cannot escape the lair of the Nightmare until you regain all that it took from you," she told him instead. "But now it knows you are here, you must make haste." With that she vanished and they were left to explore the realm around them.

They fought through more demons, with Stroud and Hawke arguing over the Wardens in the vision, which confirmed they had indeed all seen it. Alistair was glad when Varric changed the subject to debate whether the spirit they had met had indeed been Divine Justinia.

They moved forward, or what felt like forward, with Solas explaining more about the part of the Fade they found themselves in. "Fear is a very old, very strong feeling. It predates love, pride, compassion… every emotion save perhaps desire."

A memory flickered in Alistair's mind; Cole as Compassion perhaps, or something about pride?

"Be wary," Solas continued, "the Nightmare will do anything in its power to weaken our resolve."

"After what it did to our fellow Wardens," Stroud said, "I pray we find some way to strike it down."

They found a mirror which looked something like an eluvian and, as they investigated, a voice came. Alistair could feel it in his bones, wasn't sure if he was hearing the voice or it was actually inside his head. " _Ah, we have a visitor_ ," it said. " _Some foolish little boy comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from his shoulders. You should have thanked me._ "

Then it should have taken a fear he could have lived without, Alistair thought. If it had taken his doubt at leading, the fear of losing his new-found family, perhaps he would have turned away, but not the knowledge of the Wardens' betrayal.

" _You think pain will make you stronger?_ " it asked. " _What fool filled your mind with such drivel?_ "

Alistair had the Templars to thank for that particular notion and then the Wardens who had taught him he had nothing to lose. And Loghain, for his betrayal, which had indeed strengthened him through pain.

" _The only one who grows stronger from your fears is me,_ " it tried. " _But by all means, let me return what you have forgotten._ "

With that the voice withdrew and Alistair was left disorientated, was he the only one who had heard it? Then they were under attack, things that looked like darkspawn and spiders, he'd fought enough of them in the Deep Roads, they were hardly his deepest fear but unnerving now, without the Blight sense.

The voice returned once they had defeated the creatures and started to push on and now it was clear everyone could hear it as it tried one by one to break them, even as they were attacked by more of the small spider demons. " _Perhaps I should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition_ ," it said, with a mocking laugh. " _Did the king's bastard think he could prove himself? It's far too late for that. Your whole life you've left everything to more capable hands. Who will you hide behind now?_ "

"Is that all you've got?" he challenged. "I've heard worse than that from Morrigan." Someone, it sounded like Varric, snorted a laugh.

" _Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric,_ " it tried next. " _You found the red lyrium. You brought her here._ "

His tightening shoulders were the only signs the words had got through to the dwarf as he replied, "Just keep talking, Smiley."

" _Do you think it mattered, Hawke? Do you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn't even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god? Isabela is going to die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about._ "

"Well, that's going to grow tiresome quickly," Hawke sounded more bored than afraid but her hands tightened around her weapons.

" _Greetings, Dorian…_ " it said next. " _It is Dorian, isn't it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father._ "

"Rather uncalled for," Dorian said, shaking his head but Alistair didn't doubt the words had struck a nerve.

Alistair didn't know enough elven to understand what the Nightmare said to Solas, only just recognising his name but the elf's response, 'Banal nadas,' he knew though. 'Nothing is certain.' Well, they could trust him to be cryptic about it.

The voice retreated as they dealt with the last of the creatures and Solas described them as little manifestations of the Nightmare.

"And they take the form of spiders, something so many fear," Hawke said, nodding.

Solas frowned, "Remember, we walk in the Fade. Demons of fear shape their appearance to unnerve each of us."

Alistair wondered if perhaps he'd seen something different but was distracted by the return of the Divine's spirit.

"The Nightmare is closer now," she told them. "It knows you seek escape."

The next wave of spirits came with more flickers of memory. A woman screaming. " _Go!_ " she said. His own voice saying, " _Keep running!_ " Then it coalesced and he saw the Breach again but from the wrong side. He was being chased by darkspawn, no, just the fearlings, the Blight-sense was the Wardens, Corypheus. Divine Justinia held out her hand to him. " _The demons._ " He was only steps ahead of her as the creatures caught up with them. She screamed. He turned back but she told him to go as they dragged her down. He stepped through the portal.

"It was you," he said. "They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you… she died."

"Yes," she said, nodding slowly.

"So this creature is simply a spirit," Stroud said.

"I think we all knew that was the case, Warden," Hawke replied as the figure burned white-red and then transformed into a glowing, floating figure.

"The only thing that matters right now is getting out of the Fade," Alistair said firmly. "I don't care what you are if you're willing to help us."

"What we do know is that the mortal Divine perished at the Temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens," Hawke said, sounding bitter.

Alistair was confused by Hawke's sudden animosity while Stroud tried to defend the Grey Wardens. "How dare you judge us? You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!"

He flinched, given Anders was also a Grey Warden that seemed a bad example. "Even without the influence of Corypheus, the Wardens go too far," she continued. "They need to be checked."

His other companions echoed her concerns and Alistair took a deep breath. "Please, now is not the time for this."

He sensed they might have been about to object but whatever they saw over his shoulder silenced any further comments. He turned to find more of the Deep Roads creatures, or whatever the others saw, only much larger than before.

"The Nightmare has found us," gasped the spirit of the Divine, and vanished again.

They could only keep moving on, past what looked like red lyrium and the voice of the Nightmare came again. " _Do you think you can fight me? I am your every fear come to life?_ "

Alistair didn't think the Nightmare realised how he battled his fears constantly and kept going. Duncan had once told him bravery didn't mean being unafraid, courage was knowing fear and acting anyway.

" _I am the veiled hand of Corypheus,_ " it boasted. " _The demon army you fear? I command it. They are bound all through me._ "

Again it failed to understand; it wasn't the demons themselves they feared but for their lives and families and homes and for that they would fight and never stop until Corypheus was defeated.

Divine Justinia had picked up a different point from its boast though. "Ah, so if we banish you, we banish the demons? Thank you, every fear come to life."

Alistair felt like laughing at her rejoinder, a wild hope leaping in his chest. The mages could still be saved.

Their explorations led them through a body of water, which actually felt wet, and they fought a Despair demon beside a graveyard. Alistair only looked at twice because he couldn't quite believe he had seen Varric's name on one of the stones. But no, he was right, there was a stone for each of his companions and in the centre, a larger memorial, blank, for him?.

Each of the gravestones had a word on it as well as a name. 'Irrelevance' for Vivienne, 'Madness' for Iron Bull, 'Himself' for Blackwall. Was it… something they feared? He had never gotten around to asking Blackwall what he had done that was so terrible he had taken on the dead Warden's identity. Though it felt a little wrong, Alistair took a moment to look at all of them, wondering why they were here.

He knew they must be getting closer to the way out as now they were facing more actual demons, and the Divine's spirit reappeared to tell them to hurry to the rift and close it behind them. "That will banish the army of demons and exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade." Alistair could only hope it would work.

In the distance they could now see the flickering of a rift as Hawke cried out, "We're almost there."

"Great, Hawke," Varric complained. "Why not just dare the Old Gods to try and stop you?"

As though the suggestion had summoned it, the Nightmare appeared before them, as though a pale, monstrous spider had somehow mated with a Broodmother, and it towered over them.

"If you would, please tell Leliana, 'I am sorry, I failed you, too,'" said the Divine. Before Alistair could respond she flew at the Nightmare. There was an intensely bright light and, when it was gone, only the lesser aspect of the creature remained.

"You cannot stand against me," it roared.

"Watch us!" Alistair told it. It was tough, flickering in and out of tangibility as it moved through the Fade.

"I grow fat on your fear," it taunted them but Alistair wasn't afraid, he was angry. How dare it try to stop him getting home.

"You will die in agony," it said, as they felled it. Well, he had come to terms with that fate ten years before, did it really think that would stop him?

They could see the rift clearly now and started to run towards it as the Nightmare returned. Solas, Dorian and Varric made it through but the Nightmare got a leg between the rest of them and the rift.

"We need to clear a path," Stroud said.

Alistair took a deep breath, prepared to make the offer, but Hawke spoke up first.

"Go," she said. "I'll cover you."

Stroud protested. "The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must-"

"A Warden must help them rebuild!" Hawke argued. "That's your job. Corypheus is mine."

There was no time and they both looked to Alistair to make a decision. He took a deep breath. "Stroud is right," he said. "This is the Wardens' responsibility."

"It has been an honour," Stroud said, even as he turned towards the Nightmare. "For the Wardens!" he cried, as he charged it.


	21. Chapter 21

Alistair was the last one through the portal, stumbling back into the courtyard at Adamant to find the battle mostly over. Suddenly tired, he forced himself to turn and close the rift. He couldn’t waste Stroud’s sacrifice.

The last of the demons vanished with it and he sank to the ground. It only felt like seconds before Hawke was back at his side, pulling him to his feet. “She was right," she told him. "The mages are free, and Corypheus loses his demon army. Though as far as they’re all concerned, the Inquisitor broke the spell with the blessing of the Maker.”

He was too tired to argue the point. “Let them believe what they want,” he said, shaking his head.

An Inquisition scout was the next to reach him. “Inquisitor,” she said. “The Archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared.”

How many times did he need to tell people it wasn’t an Archdemon before they believed him? Still, he waved for her to continue.

“The Venatori Magister is unconscious but alive," she reported. "Cullen thought you might wish to deal with him yourself. As for the Wardens, those who weren’t corrupted helped us fight the demons.”

“We stand ready to help make up for Clarel’s… tragic mistake,” one of the warriors assured him. Alistair flinched, that was putting it mildly. Still, on that note, “And Clarel herself?”

“Was killed in her spell blast, or by the fall,” they said, looking around with some confusion. “Where is Stroud?”

Alistair felt heart-sick. “Stroud died striking a blow against a servant of the Blight,” he told them. “We will honour his sacrifice and remember how he held up the ideals of the Grey Wardens.” Unlike the rest of you, falling apart to Corypheus’ lies he wanted to say, but held his tongue.

The Warden looked confused. “So who will lead us now, Inquisitor? You?”

That was the last thing Alistair wanted, the Inquisition was one thing but it had a definite end point of Corypheus' defeat, or theirs. He hadn't been able to lead the Fereldan Wardens during the Blight and there had only been the two of them, how could he take responsibility for the entire order. But with a heavy heart, he accepted the charge, conscripting the Wardens to the Inquisition. “You will stay and do whatever you can to help the Inquisition,” he said. “In war, victory, remember? And we are still at war.”

Hawke told him she would be travelling to Weisshaupt and would inform the Wardens there what had happened. 

“You do know Bethany and Anders aren’t there, right?” Alistair said. The last he had heard they were travelling with Kallian and Zevran.

“Yes, but I’m hoping they can tell me more about my father,” she said. “Just do me a favour, take care of Varric for me.”

The journey back to Skyhold was somber since, although they had struck a blow against Corypheus, his corruption of the Grey Wardens would have long lasting consequences. While Alistair hadn't exactly expected a hero's welcome on his return, Morrigan's slap still caught him by surprise. He reached up a hand to rub his stinging cheek. "What was that for?"

"Of all the damn fool schemes you've come up with over the years..." she said.

Alistair frowned at her. "How did you know?" Had Leliana sent her ravens ahead with messages?

Her gaze darted across the people standing listening in the courtyard. "How do you think I know?" she hissed, before turning and stalking away.

He made his excuses to the council and hurried to hers and Kieran's rooms. The armful of small child was more the welcome he'd hoped for but the dried tracks of tears on his face tugged at his conscience.

“I didn’t like it when you were in the Fade, Papa,” Kieran eventually calmed enough to tell him.

“I didn’t like it much either,” he said.

“I could feel it, everything was wrong.”

Alistair managed to settle the both of them onto the cushioned bench, with Kieran huddled tight into his side. “I’m here now," he reassured him. "I’m safe.”

Kieran's breathing began to settle and he fidgeted a small amount of distance between them. “Mama was going to come after you,” he told him.

"For Kieran’s sake, of course,” Morrigan commented, from the doorway where he hadn't realised she was still standing and listening.

“Of course.” Maker forbid Morrigan ever admitted she had any feelings for him of her own. “How exactly were you going to manage that?”

Her expression tightened and he thought she would refuse to answer but Kieran broke the silence, "Through the magic mirror.”

She would take that risk? Then another question followed on its heels, “You brought the eluvian here?”

She frowned. “Was I supposed to leave it in Orlais?”

No, he supposed she couldn't have done that but Alistair shuddered at the memory of crossing through that strange world. It wasn’t quite the Fade but it wasn’t far off, who was to say if it would have worked or not. “Why didn’t you?” he asked curiously.

“The wolf-man was with you,” Kieran said and Alistair remembered how he had called Solas that before.

“Kieran said he would stop me,” Morrigan told him flatly.

That was definitely a subject for another conversation, without small ears around to overhear. Kieran might know more than a boy his age should, but he didn't necessarily understand what the repercussions were of sharing the knowledge.

"Would he have?" was all he asked now, trying to keep his tone light.

"He knows more than he's told you," Kieran said.

"He told you that?” Alistair wasn't certain when Kieran had been around Solas except perhaps in Fiona's company, as the elf tended to avoid Morrigan.

“He doesn’t realise I’m me,” Kieran replied.

It took Alistair a moment to get his head around that, then he had to clarify, “He doesn’t know the person he is talking to in the Fade is you or he doesn’t realise you’re… special…” They had never told Kieran the full story, never used the name Urthemiel around him, but then they hadn’t needed to, he had always understood how he was different from other children.

Kieran shook his head. “He knows I’m different but he hasn’t looked properly.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Fiona's entrance, a wild look of relief on her face. Had Kieran told her what had happened too? Still, now was the time to enjoy their family being all together, they could return to the subject of Solas another time.

It was a couple of days before Alistair got a chance to speak to Leliana alone, though she had been there when he had debriefing the council on what had happened in the Fade.

Although she wasn’t certain he had made the right decision about the Wardens, she assured him she would support him anyway.

She had received a final report from Hawke on her way to Weisshaupt. The Grey Wardens had been set to fighting demons and Red Templars whilst staying well clear of any Venatori in case they could reinstate Corypheus’ control.

“You dealt Corypheus a significant blow, Inquisitor,” she told him.

Alistair shook his head, “It wasn’t enough though.”

Leliana frowned at him. “Alistair, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to the Grey Wardens.”

“It’s not just that," he said. "Stroud’s sacrifice…”

“Was no more than you have already done,” she said.

Perhaps she was right, but it was hard to believe, hard to accept another person sacrificing themselves for him. This wasn't like Flemeth picking them up off the top of the Tower of Ishal because she had a use for them; the Divine must have realised what was happening, so why had she done it? Had she recognised him at the time? How could she have that much faith in him, when no-one else had. He struggled to put his feelings into words, “And the Divine…”

“Yes," Leliana said eagerly, her expression rapt. "What was she like? Divine Justinia, or her soul, or the spirit that took her form.”

“She seemed... calm," he said, but no, that wasn't quite the right word. "Serene, even," he tried. "And she guided us the whole way through.”

Leliana nodded, “That does sound like her.”

“She did ask me to tell you something though," he said, and watched her tense. "I wanted to tell you in person… She said, she was sorry she had failed you, too.”

Her shoulders went stiff and perhaps someone who didn’t know her well would have left her alone but Alistair couldn’t. He put an arm around her and Leliana leant into him, just for a moment, but he was honoured to see her vulnerability.

Then she pushed him away. “I have so much work to do.”

Cole seemed strangely unnerved by the events at Adamant, worrying about becoming like the Nightmare. “It started out helping, taking the fear away," he said. "I won’t take too much. I am not that.”

Alistair tried to distract him, turned the question back to what had happened with the Wardens but was surprised by how upset Cole was with them. 

“They obeyed orders to hurt people they were supposed to protect. They were like the bad Templars. You should have banished them.”

He blinked at the vehemence in his tone. It was true they were supposed to be brothers and sisters in the shadows but then again many of the warriors had walked willingly in the sacrifice. That wasn’t at all like the Templars, was it? But Cole was still talking…

“Before was wrong but that was when I didn’t know. I can’t not know again. No one gets hurt because of me. Promise.”

Alistair promised, but what he really wanted to do was hug the spirit as though he was as young as Kieran. He wasn't sure Cole would appreciate that though.

He remembered what the gravestone with his name on had said, 'being alone,' and asked Connor if Cole had ever mentioned anything about his past. He had arrived just ahead of the Red Templars' attack, which said he had been somewhere before Haven but how had the spirit been drawn from the Fade in the first place?

Connor didn't know much, saying Cole mostly kept his past to himself, but he had mentioned two names once, a mage called Rhys and Evangeline, who seemed to have been a Templar, though he didn't know if that would be of any help since he didn’t recognise them. It seemed like there was more Connor wasn’t saying but Alistair didn’t want to push, not if it might risk one of the few friendships he had.

Alistair had intended to ask Leliana to try to find Cole’s friends, or perhaps Josephine, it seemed like a situation which might want a softer touch, but when he mentioned the names in passing to Fiona, her look of recognition gave him pause.

“Should I know them?” he asked.

“No, but you may know of him, at least,” she said. “He was Wynne’s son.”

He had known Wynne had had a son, taken from her as children always were from Circle mages, and was again reminded this was the organisation Vivienne would support. But he could address that later.

"You knew him then?" Alistair asked.

"They were both at White Spire," Fiona said. "She _was_ a Templar."

"Was?" he said. "You... know what happened to them?" He didn't want to hear about their deaths but it might explain more about Cole.

"No, they may both have survived," she said. "I don't know where they went, or if they even stayed together, only that he didn't join us in Redcliffe."

It turned out Leliana also recognised the names and she shared her information with Josephine to try and track them down.

Alistair realised how rattled Cole really was a day or so later when he found him arguing with Solas. Cole looked up as he approached and appealed to him, “He won’t bind me. He’s a mage, and he likes demons, but he won’t help.”

He was confused. “Why would you want Solas to bind you?”

“He has to!” Cole insisted. “If Solas won’t do the ritual to bind me, someone else could. Will! Like the Warden mages!”

Was that why he had wanted them sent away? He was afraid of them? But there was a more pressing issue. “Cole, you’re not a demon,” Alistair tried to reassure him. “And even if you were, I’m not sure binding would be the right answer.”

“Helping makes me who I am,” Cole said. “I help the hurting. That is what I do, all I am.”

“And if binding you erases your mind?” Solas asked.

“You wouldn’t make me hurt innocent people. I don’t want to hurt innocent people again.”

Again? Alistair wasn’t sure he wanted to ask any further. Was that related to his friends at the White Spire? “Look, there has to be another option,” he said, looking to Solas, who was the closest they had to an expert on the subject.

Solas admitted he had heard of amulets used by Rivaini seers, the Amulet of the Unbound, to protect spirits they summoned from blood magic and binding. “It should protect Cole as well.”

“Then we’ll find one of them,” he said. “I promise Cole, we’ll work this out.”

Cole didn't seem as reassured as he had hoped, but agreed to wait and try it.

Turning his thoughts back to the matter of the Circles, Alistair had to do some hard thinking. Whether he liked it or not, he was now responsible for a lot of people, not just the original Inquisition forces but the rebel mages and now the Wardens too.

Once Corypheus was defeated, they were going to need to do a lot of rebuilding.  
Cassandra had already spoken of how she wished to reform the Seekers, and he could probably leave the Wardens to Weisshaupt but there was still going to be a need for some way to educate mages and non-mages alike, to protect them from those who would use their gifts to harm others and to guide them.

Fiona and Vivienne were likely to be two opposing viewpoints there, so he was going to need someone else to mediate that. With Cassandra's revelations about the Rite of Tranquility there would need to be some hard decisions made about when and how to reverse the rite on those already made Tranquil and if it should be permitted at all moving forwards.

Then there was the Chantry, still in disarray following the loss of Divine Justinia, and the Templar Order, currently shattered and corrupted as it was. There would be voices raised in support of them but there had to be a better way, without validating Dorian's fear of them becoming like Tevinter. Alistair felt hopelessly out of his depth but he knew people were going to look to him for answers, as they had to Kallian after the Blight.

For the time being though, he had a dozen minor concerns to handle. Josephine had contacts in Rivain, who she hoped would be willing to help acquire an amulet and she was also able to locate Cole’s friends, and indeed arrange for them to be rescued from Red Templars by Inquisition forces, but they still declined the offer to come to Skyhold.

When Cullen said he wanted a private word, Alistair was concerned. Their commander had seemed to be handling his lyrium withdrawal well, though he still looked drained, and Alistair had hesitated to bring the subject up but now he wondered if he should have mentioned it before. He needn't have worried; instead Cullen had news from their investigations of abandoned Therinfal Redoubt. Their agents had learnt the Templars there had been fed red lyrium until they became the monsters they had seen at Haven and then Samson had taken over.

Cullen had mentioned knowing the leader of the Red Templars at the time but Alistair hadn't realised how well they had been acquainted. Cullen seemed almost personally betrayed as he told him, “I knew he was an addict, but this… Red lyrium is nothing like the lyrium given by the Chantry. Its power comes with a terrible madness.”

Alistair would have said the power given to Templars by untainted lyrium seemed to have already inspired them to madness but he knew how much Cullen regretted the things he had done as a Templar and it seemed cruel to bait him with them now.

The commander believed if they could find the source of the Red Templars' lyrium, they could weaken them and their leader. With the three of Corypheus’ schemes they knew of all thwarted, the Red Templars were likely his main fighting force. Cullen suggested intercepting caravans smuggling red lyrium in the Emerald Graves could get the Inquisition closer to stopping Samson’s supply.

Keen to get out of Skyhold for a while, away from the pressures of leadership and the way increasing numbers of people were looking up to him, Alistair decided to look into it personally. The caravans weren’t hard to track down, as Cullen had thought they were using main trade roads, and he could sense the Blight within their shipments.

As well as taking the caravans, along with correspondence they had been carrying which mentioned Samson, they managed to take some of the smugglers alive. This revealed the Templars had a source of lyrium which wasn’t coming from the Deep Roads, which was soon identified as a mine in the Dales, near a town called Sahrnia.

Alistair agreed they should investigate it as soon as possible but a more pressing matter reared its head as he realised he hadn’t seen Blackwall since a couple of days after their return from Adamant, and none of the Wardens had seen him either. One of Leliana’s agents searched his quarters and found a missing page from the week’s reports. It detailed the arrest of an Orlesian soldier for their part in a massacre some years previously and mentioned the officer who had ordered the attack, one Thom Rainier, was still at large.

It didn’t take much to work out either Rainier was Blackwall’s real name or else he had been one of the soldiers involved, remembering how unwilling the older man had been to speak about his past. As much as Alistair hoped he had not done anything foolish, it seemed probable he was planning to, so he took a small group to observe the execution in Val Royeaux just in case.

When he heard the full story of their crimes, the death of not just a Lord but the man’s family and servants too, Alistair could understand why Rainier had been so ashamed, had never discussed the matter. The thought that this man, whom he had treated as a friend, a brother Warden, could have committed such a terrible deed… Killing children… As a father, it made him ill to think of it.

Still, when Rainier made his entrance, just before his soldier was hanged, to reveal his identity and 'take responsibility' for his crimes, Alistair wondered what he thought to achieve.

He managed to arrange a visit to his cell, hoping for answers. “What were you thinking?” Alistair asked.

“Blackwall wouldn’t have let another die in his place." Rainier said. "Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man. I deserve to be punished for what I did.”

Alistair didn’t have a lot of patience for the excuse of only following orders, in his opinion Rainier’s men were as guilty as he was for their part in it. No decent person should follow morally unacceptable orders and the only reason he cut Cullen any slack for doing so was the way the Templars had deliberately manipulated him into it. Still, that was a discussion for another day, so he took a deep breath, before answering, “Probably, yes, but why didn’t you tell me, anyone, what you were planning?”

“I couldn’t." Blackwall, no, Rainier looked up at him, "You knew the truth about Blackwall but I was ashamed of what I’d done. This is what I am: a murderer, a traitor, a monster.”

“A Grey Warden,” Alistair reminded him. “So, what do you expect me to do now?”

Rainier looked confused so Alistair elaborated. “You’re a Warden and the Grey Wardens serve the Inquisition. You’re under my jurisdiction, on all counts. Do you want to die?”

“It would only be just.”

“Will it bring back those who died?” Alistair shook his head. “There’s a reason conscription into the Wardens is accepted as a punishment. No other authority has any right to judge you now.”

Rainier frowned as though he had only just realised what that meant. Had he thought at all about what it meant to be a Grey Warden, or was he still thinking of his two identities as being separate?

Outside the prison, Cullen handed him the information Leliana had found out about Rainier but Alistair barely glanced over it. He didn't know how to tell them he had known 'Blackwall' was an imposter all along but then he hadn't realised the depths of his crimes. As much as Alistair would have liked to publically acknowledge Rainier had been recruited to the Grey Wardens following his crime and he could no longer be prosecuted, even he recognised that might not be entirely politic. Instead they made arrangements for him, as a member of the Inquisition, to be transported back to Skyhold for judgement, though Alistair knew it would be purely a formality.

Still, the timing was terrible. Although the tale of what had happened at Adamant wasn't widely known, it was easy enough to infer something had happened when Inquisition forces laid siege to a Grey Warden fortress and left accompanied by a much reduced group of Wardens. To now have a Grey Warden confess to such a crime only heightened the situation and the awareness of the Inquisition's involvement with the Wardens.

If Celene didn’t owe her throne, indeed her life, to him and the Inquisition it would have been much harder, raising questions of exactly how much authority the Inquisition had and where it got it from. Even Anora wouldn’t challenge them though, lest the Landsmeet change their mind and decide to find out if the Inquisitor would like the Fereldan throne after all. The idea that he wouldn’t probably hadn’t crossed any of their minds.

Still, Alistair was angry at Rainier for forcing his hand, rather than admitting to his crimes and asking for the Inquisition’s assistance. They could have probably conscripted Mornay to the Inquisition, if not the Wardens, if Rainier was so determined they shouldn't suffer for his crimes.

Josephine was hurt more than anyone. She admitted their romance had been unlikely to progress far, given the disparity of their ranks, but knowing Blackwall had lied to her.

When it comes to the judgement, Rainier still didn't appear to realise the situation he was in. “I accepted my punishment," he protested. "I was ready for all this to end.”

Where was the honour of the Grey Wardens he had made such a big deal about before? “You don’t get that easy an escape,” Alistair told him.

It might be petty but he sent Rainier with a mixed group of Wardens and Inquisition forces to protect the town of Val Gamord, who had begged for the Inquisition’s assistance as they had recently come under attack from darkspawn. It could be an object lesson in the people he was supposed to trust and the work he should be doing; he could redeem himself by saving lives, not simply dying.

With that matter handled, Alistair turned his attention back to Samson and the Red Templars' lyrium supply. Outside Sahrnia they met a man in Chevalier armour, who introduced himself as Michel de Chevin. The name sounded vaguely familiar and Alistair wracked his brain as the chevalier explained how he had seen the Inquisition banners and was thrilled to meet him. “I never expected to see the Herald of Andraste himself.”

Alistair remembered where he’d heard the name before, this was the man who’d fought Gaspard on Teagan’s behalf. “Weren’t you Celene’s Champion? Ser Michel?” he asked.

The Chevalier looked uncomfortable. “I am a ‘Ser’ no longer, and no champion either.”

Ah, that was the other reason he sounded familiar. Morrigan had shared the story she had heard from Celene about Briala and the eluvian network. “You were banished from the court for treachery,” Alistair said, though he regretted his bluntness when the man looked pained.

“There’s much more than that, but it ends the same way,” Michel said sadly. “What does it matter? Despite all, I have a strong arm, a stout heart, and I still serve Orlais.”

There was some dedication, to carry on serving the country who'd denounced you and Alistair felt bad about still being slightly suspicious. “Is that what you’re doing here?” he asked.

“As much as I can, although this was not my original intention. I hunt a demon,” the former Chevalier explained. “This one calls itself ‘Imshael’ and has settled in Suledin Keep, up in the hills.” His shoulders tensed before he continued, “Imshael is free because I made a mistake. I will see him destroyed.”

Alistair nodded as that made the former Chevalier's presence in the area more understandable. “What can you tell us about it?”

“A desire demon,” said Michel. “More cunning than anything I have encountered… and I have played The Game.”

That was worrying but probably not as much as the demon being here in the first place. Surely it couldn’t be coincidence, with so many of the Red Templars around. “What’s in Suledin Keep?” Alistair asked.

“Red Templars, so far as I can tell,” he said. “Suledin is an elven fortress, left to crumble. The locals always avoided it, believing it the haunt of ancient elven spirits.”

Alistair was reminded of the other rumour Morrigan had mentioned, that the disgraced Chevalier was secretly elf-blooded. If it was true, he had a certain amount of sympathy for him. It was hard being elf-blooded and he had never had to face the stigma growing up; whatever he thought of Fiona and Maric's choices, they had made them with his best interests at heart.

He promised Michel they would look into the demon and then pressed onto the quarry. As expected, they found plenty of Red Templars there and more. What they discovered at the quarry was shocking, even to Alistair who had seen lyrium being grown out of people in the future, and his companions were horrified. Alistair started to wonder if it wasn't that red lyrium itself was Blighted but it caused by exposure to tainted blood, it would explain the large amount followed the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. 

When the Templars 'seeded' their poor victims with red lyrium, they were essentially infecting them with the Blight and their decline was fast as the growing red lyrium drained them so they couldn't be freed, only put out of their misery.

It was even more horrifying when they discovered one of the local villagers had been providing the Templars with names of who to take. As they searched the quarry, destroying the red lyrium deposits, they also found letters between Samson and his subordinates in charge of the mining operation. The letters referenced Samson’s armour: how Corypheus had gifted it to him and it now allowed him to march days without rest, as well as mentioning another name, Maddox, which could be another lead.

With the quarry cleared, they headed onto Suledin Keep, where they encountered Michel again, fighting a group of Red Templars. He seemed relieved to see them but had bad news. “Your efforts to drive off the Red Templars have not gone unnoticed, Inquisitor," he said. "Imshael knows we’re here. He’s sent Red Templars after me, and a pack of shades descends now upon Sahrnia."

They might make it back to the town in time but that would just leave the demon free to continue whatever scheme it had planned. "What can we do?" Alistair asked.

"The people are defenseless," Michel told him. "I must return without delay! It’s up to you to destroy Imshael.”

Alistair again gave his promise and Michel left at a run. Inside the keep they found many more Red Templars and evidence they had attempted to corrupt wild animals and other monstrous creatures, fusing them with red lyrium. Worse they had partially succeeded, forcing them to fight infected giants.

They worked their way higher up until they reached some shrine with massive blades suspended on chains above a growth of red lyrium. Alistair could almost have believed the being standing in front of it was the man it appeared, were it not for its indifference to the immense amounts of red lyrium surrounding it.

“Ah, the hero arrives,” the creature said. “But is it hero? Or murderer? It’s so hard to tell.”

Alistair bit back his initial response, heeding Michel’s warning: he knew he couldn’t defeat it on its terms since he was hardly renowned for his intellect or diplomatic skills. Instead, he went for bluntness. “So, you’re the demon called Imshael.”

The creature huffed, saying, “Choice. Spirit.”

Was that even a thing? Choice was hardly a virtue, was it? Alistair hesitated while Cassandra chided him for listening to it at all.

Imshael shook his head. “Wait,” he said. “True to my name, I will show you that you have a choice. It doesn’t always have to end in blood.”

“What choice?” Alistair asked, suspicious of anything a demon could offer.

“Simple. We don’t fight, and I grant you power. Shower you with riches. Or maybe virgins. Your pick.”

Alistair wrinkled his nose at the options. Did the demon really think any of those choices would appeal to him; he already had more power than he’d ever wanted, and as for virgins? "Um, no thanks," he replied.

The demon’s expression changed. “Well, if you won’t be smart, be afraid!” he said, as his appearance shifted, into something resembling a Fear demon.

It was a strange battle as Imshael changed from that appearance into the form of a Rage demon and finally a Pride demon before he was eventually killed and they claimed the keep for the Inquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing NaNo this month so the next chapter of this will be posted on November 27th


	22. Chapter 22

They returned to Sahrnia to check the village was safe and let Michel know Imshael was gone. “It’s done,” Alistair told him. “The demon is dead.”

The former Chevalier looked startled, then his shoulders visibly untensed, as though a great weight had been lifted from them. “It’s finally over,” he said with a deep sigh. “And now I find myself free to choose a new direction.” He met Alistair’s gaze head on, “I would be honoured to serve the Inquisition, if it will have me.”

Glad of the opportunity to recruit such a capable warrior, especially one with experience dealing with the type of weirdness which seemed to go hand-in-hand with being part of the Inquisition, or maybe it was just Alistair’s life in general, Alistair welcomed Michel and encouraged him to return with them to Skyhold.

On his return, Josephine let him know Inquisition scouts had finally caught up with Mayor Dedrick and he was in a cell awaiting judgment. As much as Alistair was grateful for Anora's tolerance of the Inquisition, he knew passing judgement on a Ferelden citizen for a crime committed during the Blight, at a time he had been a wanted man himself, would be a step too far. 

Even if he could argue the Grey Wardens held jurisdiction over Blight related issues and that he was, technically, the highest ranked Grey Warden in Ferelden or Orlais right now, it was still very much crossing a line. It might have been different if he had wanted to conscript the man but that didn't seem to be an appropriate punishment for what he had done, and it felt too close to Rainier’s sentencing. Instead, Alistair arranged for the man to be sent to Denerim, let Anora share his quandary.

It was with a heavy heart he went to speak to Cullen about what they found back at the quarry, sure the commander would be horrified and blame himself for not investigating Samson or following up the leads sooner. Alistair could only reassure him the Red Templars will not be using people like that anymore, not in that quarry at least, though it seems unlikely to was their only source of red lyrium.

“I know Samson had fallen, but this?” Cullen said as he paced his office. “It’s monstrous, we have to put an end to them.”

Alistair wholeheartedly agreed but Cullen hadn’t finished, warning him, “That armour must give Samson extraordinary power. We may not be able to stop him.”

“If we can’t defeat him, no-one stands a chance,” Alistair protested. “There must be a way.”

“Then we must destroy the armour,” said Cullen “Though I couldn’t say how. Perhaps Dagna has some ideas? She crafts the impossible every day.”

Dagna was happy to have a new challenge to get her teeth into, claiming Samson’s armour was, “Genius. To do all this and not go insane, it must be resistant. Or he _is_ insane. Or both!”

Alistair thought it most likely Samson was insane but that remained to be seen. “So, it’s slowly consuming him too?” he asked.

“Yes, but slow is not fast,” she said. “Doesn’t matter, I can find a way to hurt him. I just need time and red lyrium.” She added, “For tests!” on seeing his expression but Alistair wasn’t convinced.

Dwarves might be immune to the effects of untainted lyrium but they weren’t immune to the Blight. “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Everything’s safe if handled properly. And you don’t handle it long. Or breathe it.”

He would have to trust she knew what she was doing but Alistair resolved to keep a close eye on her even as he approved of Josephine’s suggestion for how best to use Inquisition resources to get the books and tools Dagna needed.

After that, Leliana wanted to speak with him about Michel de Chevin. All the advisors had their own ideas for where he could best serve the Inquisition but apparently she believed his knowledge and experience with the eluvians would be most useful. Alistair wondered if she was aware of Morrigan’s one, here in Skyhold, but he wasn’t going to be the first to mention it. He could only imagine Morrigan’s displeasure if she found out he was giving away her secrets.

A few days later, Josephine passed him a letter and an amulet but it wasn’t for Dagna’s benefit this time. The letter was from a Rivaini seer, grateful to hear the Inquisition cared enough for spirits to help them and gifting the amulet Solas had wanted for Cole’s protection freely.

Alistair didn’t hesitate before going to find Cole and offering him the amulet. He could see the spirit recognised it immediately and they headed to Solas’ room in the tower to try it out.

After a brief examination, Solas confirmed it would be simple to attune. “You put it on, I charge it with magic, and you should be protected.”

"Are you sure you want to do this?” Alistair asked Cole.

“They can’t make me a monster,” he said, face set with determination.

Solas channelled magic into the amulet, his brow furrowed and then there was a bright flash and Cole cried out.

Varric came running in. “What was that? What are you doing to the kid?”

“Stopping blood mages from binding me like the demons at Adamant. But it didn’t work,” Cole explained, surprisingly direct for once.

“Something is interfering with the enchantment,” said Solas.

Varric crossed his arms over his chest. “Something like Cole not being a demon?”

“Of course he’s not a demon,” Alistair said. “It’s an amulet to protect _spirits._ ”

“Yes, a spirit who is strangely like a person,” Varric said, shortly.

Alistair supposed that could explain it but Solas didn’t seem to agree. “Focus on the amulet,” he told Cole. “Tell me what you feel.”

Cole frowned as he described what was wrong. "I'm the wrong shape. There's something... There, that way."

"We'll find whatever it is and make it right," Alistair promised him whilst Varric suggested borrowing one of Cullen's maps to figure out where the issue was.

"Will you come with me?" Cole asked. "All of you?"

Alistair was touched by his trust in them and they all agreed. Once Cole had left, Varric turned to Solas with a frown. "I get it, you like spirits, but he came into this world to be a person."

"Like Justice?" Alistair asked, and immediately regretted it from the look on Varric's face but the dwarf walked away before he could work out how to take it back.

When Alistair went to find Varric to make amends, he found him deep in conversation with a female dwarf, who introduced herself as Bianca Davri. Alistair only just caught himself from asking 'like Varric's crossbow' since he imagined there was probably more to the story and doubted Varric would thank him for the embarrassment.

"Any friend of Varric's is welcome here," he told her instead.

She laughed in response. "Be careful, saying things like that. Some of his friends you don't want to meet."

Given Alistair had met Isabela, he hated to think what any of Varric's other friends might be like that he wouldn’t want to meet. "I don't mean to interrupt," he started but Varric shook his head.

"Bianca's got a lead on where Corypheus got his red lyrium," he said.

Bianca nodded. "The site of Bartrand's folly, the thaig Varric found, has been leaked. There's a Deep Roads entrance crawling with strange humans."

Alistair had never found a Deep Roads entrance which wasn't a terrible place so red lyrium trade wasn't going to make it much worse. Still, "It sounds like something we should look it," he said.

Bianca looked relieved. "I'll keep an eye on their operation," she promised. "If you're interested in shutting it down, you've got my help."

She said her goodbyes to Varric and headed off. Alistair turned to Varric, full of questions, but the dwarf only shook his head so he tried to apologise. “Look, Varric, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I only meant…”

"Forget it, kid,” the dwarf said. “I know you meant well. Let me know when you want to head to the entrance."

Alistair went to speak to Cullen about the information; between this source and the mine in Sahrnia they might have accounted for most of Samson’s lyrium and, unless the commander had any more news on Samson’s own whereabouts, cutting off Corypheus' supply of red lyrium was more important than anything else they had planned.

Cullen spoke hopefully of Dagna’s progress with the red lyrium samples but was more interested in the orders they had found at the quarry. He explained in an offhand way how Maddox had been a mage in Kirkwall, who had smuggled letters to his sweetheart with Samson’s help until they were caught, at which point Samson had been expelled from the Templar Order and Maddox made Tranquil.

The disinterested tone Cullen used to discuss this, as though it wasn’t important that neither of them had done anything worthy of punishment, made Alistair’s temper burn. Maker forbid mages have feelings or that any Templar should realise they were people too. But this wasn’t the time for that discussion, if they could only convince this Maddox that Samson, for all his apparent kindness, was doing a terrible thing then he might be willing to help them stop him. Tranquil mages could usually be appealed to through logic and they had the offer of Cassandra’s knowledge of a cure to Tranquility too. “Having an inside man among Samson’s forces would be invaluable,” he suggested.

“I couldn’t say,” Cullen replied with a note of doubt in his tone. “I’ve lived around Tranquil most of my life, and I’ve never understood them.”

Not that he had probably tried especially hard, Alistair thought, certainly not for the majority of that time, but that wasn’t the point here.

“It seems Maddox built Samson’s armour for him, and maintains it still,” Cullen continued. “Tranquil in Kirkwall needed rare and expensive supplies for their enchantments - supplies we can trace. Samson’s armour might lead us right to his stronghold.”

Alistair left Cullen to organise the search, whilst Josephine followed up other leads. Meanwhile news came back from Val Garmond where the Grey Wardens had pushed back a darkspawn force. They all agreed it was strange that the creatures should have appeared so suddenly so Leliana sent agents to investigate further.

In the end Alistair and Varric headed into the Hinterlands only a couple of days behind Bianca, taking Dorian along with them. They made their way to the gate of Valammar, where Alistair remembered finding some Carta members there before though he had assumed they were mining normal lyrium. Although the darkspawn might have hampered the Carta’s operation, he was still glad they had already cleared them out, or this might have been more of a struggle.

On their way, Varric shared his concerns about Bianca, that she had risking the wrath of the Guild to warn him in person. "Whatever she found in that entrance shook her up."

That was somewhat daunting but then Bianca was a surfacer dwarf, like Varric, so possibly didn't have that much experience with the Deep Roads. They found her waiting for them just inside the cave and she seemed relieved at how quickly they had come.

"These idiots are carrying the red lyrium out in unprotected containers," she told them. "We don't want to stick around long enough for it to start 'talking' to us."

Alistair was less concerned about the dangers of red lyrium for himself, though that didn't sound like a sensible precaution even for untainted lyrium. Inside they found Carta thugs, as before and Alistair was half-surprised Corypheus hadn't arranged for a more trusted group to supervise such an essential operation, though that might explain the lack of concern for their safety. Or maybe the darkspawn magister thought they could manage if this supply was cut off, given they had been mining it from bodies in Sahrnia, as in the future.

When they reached a sealed door, Bianca pulled out an ornate key. "I built these doors," she said. "They probably shut this one from the other side when they heard the ruckus we were making." She fitted the key into a nondescript crack in the stone and the door opened. "Ta da!"

There were more Carta behind the door but hardly enough to cause them any real concerns yet. As they pressed forward, Varric asked, "So, how is Whatsisname?" in a poor attempt at a casual tone.

"Bogdan?" Bianca said. "He's in Nevarra right now, selling my machine to wealthy landowners."

"I heard some of the Guild were trying to get you named a Paragon for that contraption," Varric said.

"That's not going to happen," said Bianca. "Even if I am ten times the smith Branka ever was."

She certainly seemed to have ten times Branka's way with of people. Alistair remembered all too way their horror at realising the so-called Paragon had given up her own people to the Broodmother. Kallian had only ever regretted her death for Oghren's sake and he seemed happier without her.

They finally reached the inner room and Bianca rifled through a chest for a key which matched her own. "There you are. They won't be able to use this entrance again."

"Bianca..." Varric said, warningly.

Alistair challenged her more directly. "That's exactly like your key," he said, keeping a hand on his sword in case this was a trap. "How did they get a copy?" Varric had assured him he trusted Bianca but who was to say what Corypheus might have promised her.

She admitted she had gone to investigate the red lyrium and become fascinated by it, telling Varric, “I was doing you a favour. You want to know how this stuff works just as much as I do.”

What had she discovered? Alistair tried to look nonchalant as he asked, “And did you find anything?” but from Varric’s frown he wasn’t certain he had been especially successful.

“Actually, yes,” she said. “Red lyrium, it has the Blight. Do you know what that means?”

Of course Alistair did and he didn’t imagine it would take long for the others to realise the implications. 

“What, that two deadly things combine to form something super-awful?” Varric said.

Bianca frowned, explaining she had looked for a Grey Warden mage to investigate the lyrium and found Larius, who had been one of those involved with Corypheus' imprisonment and corrupted by it.

Well at least he didn’t have to worry about it being a Grey Warden secret now, that was one less thing to worry about. Instead he was left with the guilt that if he had told someone, it wouldn’t have come to this. “You couldn’t have known,” Alistair tried to reassure her.

Varric turned to him with an accusing look. “You don’t seem surprised by this. Did you know?”

“About the red lyrium, not Larius,” Alistair said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It was pretty obvious to a Warden.”

Varric sighed and shook his head. Bianca tried to apologise but he cut her off, telling her she was still to blame for getting the red lyrium into Corypheus’ hands.

“Am I supposed to wallow in my mistakes forever, kicking myself, telling stories of what I should have done?” It had the sound of a long-running argument and Alistair wanted no part of it; it was bad enough when Morrigan dragged up past stories of things he’d done wrong, he didn’t need to hear the list of someone else’s years of disagreements.

Before he could intervene though Varric walked away and Bianca took her leave, though not before threatening Alistair what would happen if he got Varric killed.

Afterwards, back at Skyhold, Alistair was placed in the position of comforting Varric for a change. "I let this shit happen,” the dwarf said. “And I am not good at dealing with shit like this."

"You think I'm doing any better?" Alistair asked.

Varric half-turned away. "No… If Cassandra hadn't dragged me here, I'd be in Kirkwall right now, pretending none of this was happening."

"Would you really?” Alistair said, doubting it. “Still, you know you're free to go now? As much as I appreciate your company, you can go back to Kirkwall any time you like."

"And leave you to face Corypheus without me?" Varric said, shaking his head. “Anyway, thank you for your help back there.”

Alistair still felt like he should be apologising, it was at least partially his fault, and Varric hadn’t been so quick to forgive Bianca her part in the whole mess but, if the dwarf was willing to drop the subject, he wasn’t going to push.

There had been some excitement in Skyhold in their absence as it seemed Qun assassins had been sent after Iron Bull. They didn’t appear to have tried very hard admittedly and Bull seemed fairly sanguine about it. Dorian was less so, especially since he had been away with Alistair at the time, and Alistair wasn’t exactly happy himself. He knew he didn’t have a lot of experience with politics but he felt intrigue was one thing, trying to kill one of his people, no matter how half-heartedly, went beyond that. Still, he doubted Sten, or rather than Arishok, would be moved by a sternly worded letter and the Inquisition was hardly up to the task of taking on the Qunari nation so there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Leliana’s agents had tracked down the source of the darkspawn in Val Garmond to a local noble who had started an illicit mining operation which had disturbed them. It turned out to be more than just a suspicious business arrangement as, after the Wardens had helped the Inquisition agents fend off her mercenaries, the Marquise had fled. Their pursuit had been hindered by terrain and a large number of demons in the area but Leliana was confident her scouts could find a way through.

She also shared how impressed she had been with Michel de Chevin’s memory of the paths between the eluvians. Alistair again felt guilty that he hadn’t told her how he had walked those same paths following Morrigan and wondered if Michel had had the same experience as him, which Morrigan had seemed to think was different from her own.

In the meantime, Cole had worked out where the origin of his problem lay and led them to Redcliffe. He couldn’t explain what he was looking for until they got to the village then, "You!" Cole exclaimed and suddenly he was standing over a man, holding him down. "You killed me?"

The man looked both horrified and confused. "What? I don't even know you."

Alistair was about to intervene when Cole continued, "You forgot," he said, voice tight with anger. "You locked me in the dungeon in the Spire and you forgot and I died in the dark."

Though he didn’t understand what his friend was talking about, Alistair knew he needed to take control of the situation. "Cole, stop!"

Cole looked back at him, letting go of the man, who turned and fled.

"Just take it easy, kid," Varric said.

“He killed me.” Cole shook his head. “That's why it doesn't work. He killed me and I have to kill him back!"

That didn’t make any sense to Alistair. "Cole, wait," he said, hoping to calm him down. "I need you to explain."

And Cole did, explained how he had been drawn to the suffering of a captured apostate. "They threw him into the dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him. He starved to death. I came through to help and I couldn't... So I became him. Cole."

They all looked at each other. It made a kind of twisted sense, how Cole had left the Fade, why he was so different from other spirits. Alistair didn’t know what to say as Cole walked away from them, looking lost.

Solas insisted Cole needed to forgive the Templar, to let it go so he could return to his original purpose. Varric argued he needed to work through his anger, become more of a person. Alistair wondered how Varric of all people could make that argument; the situation wasn't quite the same but they had seen what happened when a spirit turned from its purpose. If Justice turned to Vengeance, what would thwarted Compassion look like? 

"I agree with Solas," he said slowly. "Cole needs to let this go."

Solas believed he had a solution and reluctantly Alistair stood back as he led Cole to confront the former Templar. It seemed to work though, he waited with Varric and they watched as the man left unharmed and then Solas and Cole returned, the spirit looking lighter.

Back in Skyhold, Solas repeated the process of charging the amulet and this time it was successful but Varric was still unhappy with the choice they had made. "Have you heard what he sounds like?"

"He sounds like a spirit," Solas said.

As though on cue, Cole appeared. "Nonsense words like Bartrand at the end. Just need to hear the song again, just for a minute." He paused at Varric's discomfort then said, "I'm all right, Varric."

The dwarf had little choice but to take his word for it.

Alistair found Cole later to ask, "Are you happy now?"

"Questions can be shackles," he said, "but you kept me in kindness."

Cullen’s people had been busy whilst they were away and had tracked Samson’s remaining Red Templars to a hidden camp in the wilderness of northern Orlais. Alistair agreed they needed to go as soon as possible and Cullen was determined to come along too.

The camp, when they arrived, seemed to be based in and around a shrine to one of the Old Gods. There was no sign of Samson himself but they were opposed by living Templars and others entirely lost to the corruption. Inside they faced down a behemoth but then found the shrine was already half-destroyed and recently too, with the fires still burning.

In the inner shrine, sitting at the foot of a statue of Dumat between growths of red lyrium, they found a Tranquil, looking entirely calm. “Hello, Inquisitor,” he said, his voice slurred.

Alistair blinked in confusion. “You know me?”

“It’s Maddox,” said Cullen. “Something’s wrong. I’ll send for the healers…”

“That would be a waste, Knight-Captain Cullen,” Maddox said. “I drank my entire supply of Blightcap essence. It won’t be long now.”

What had he been told they would do to him? “We only wanted to ask you questions, Maddox,” Alistair protested.

“Yes. That is what I could not allow,” Maddox told them. “Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape.”

“You threw your lives away? For Samson?” Cullen asked. “Why?”

“Samson saved me even before he needed me,” said Maddox. “He gave me purpose again. I... wanted to help…” His eyes closed and he slumped sideways.

Though it seemed unlikely they would be able to do anything, Alistair sent for a healer, even as they searched through scattered and half-burnt papers, trying to find anything useful Maddox might have missed. They found lyrium bottles, licked clean, and Maddox’s crafting tools, which might perhaps still hold a trace of whatever materials he had used.

Back in Skyhold, Cullen seemed to think the operation had been a success. “The red lyrium deposits are being destroyed, and we’ve cut the Red Templars down to the core. It’s a pity Maddox thought his sacrifice was the only answer. But that leaves Samson with a severely curtailed army, and enchanted armour he can’t maintain. You did it.”

It didn’t feel like much of a victory to Alistair, more pointless deaths with Samson still out there somewhere but Cullen was insistent. “We’re getting recruits by the hour. There’s more than a few ex-Templars among them. We’ve struck a blow and given people hope.”

Despite Cullen’s evident pleasure, Alistair wasn’t too impressed by the idea of bolstering their forces with ex-Templars. They would have to be carefully vetted to ensure they understood they had no authority over the mages here and any attempts to control them would be met with penalties. Fortunately Dagna chose that moment to burst in, before Alistair could say anything to Cullen he would regret later.

“Inquisitor, I found it!” she said, waving something, a runestone it look like, at him.

“This rune?” he asked.

“It’s not just any rune,” she explained. “I made it with red lyrium and what’s left of poor Maddox’s tools. The rune acts on the median fissures of lyrium to…” She caught herself on the technical words and started again. “It’ll destroy Samson’s armour. He’ll be powerless.”

Alistair took the rune from her gingerly. He might be safer than most around red lyrium but that didn’t mean he would forget how dangerous it could be. “Now we just need to find Samson,” he said.

“We will do,” Cullen assured him. “Maddox covered Samson’s tracks thoroughly but, wherever Samson’s retreated, we’ll find him. Your army stands ready, Inquisitor. For Samson, for Corypheus, for whatever you command.”

He forced himself to not to shudder at the reminder. Alistair had never wanted this command, but he had a responsibility to see it through, to ensure the orders he gave were ones his people could follow with pride.

With no leads on Samson or Corypheus’ whereabouts, Alistair took the opportunity to slip away, taking Cole with him. They had recently heard back from Cole’s old friends who had recovered from their wounds, and offered their services to the Inquisition. Cole seemed relieved they were well.

They went into town and he watched the spirit go from person to person, a few words in their ear and moving on. He seemed happy, purposeful, telling Alistair, "There was someone before. When he found out what I was, he changed, I lost him. You found out but you didn't change, didn't make me change. You let me be this, be more. Thank you for helping me find this again, for believing in me. You don't know what it means."

"I have some idea," he said. "And you're welcome."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently this was my chapter for Hamilton references - see how many you can find...
> 
> Now NaNo is coming to an end, I'm hoping to get back into weekly updates on this but we'll see how it goes.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how long it's been since I last updated - many apologies. I have been working on it very slowly alongside other projects and hope to get the next couple of chapters up sooner. Thank you to anyone who's still reading...

News came back from Val Garmond that, with the assistance of Josephine's ally, the Inquisition forces had defeated Marquise Bouffon and Rainier was particularly praised for his efforts. Alistair felt a pang of relief that at least that situation seemed to have turned out for the best. Perhaps, in time, Rainier would come to see it was better to earn his redemption than hide from his past.

Meanwhile Inquisition scouts had observed Corypheus’ forces pushing south towards the Arbor Wilds, where there was believed to be an ancient elven temple. They had been ransacking elven ruins since Haven but, since they had done the same to Tevinter ruins, Alistair had assumed it was simply for the convenient shelter.

Morrigan seemed to think otherwise, though she did have to say, “Fortunately I can assist,” in the most high-handed fashion possible.

Leliana looked as though she wanted to shake the information out of her and even Alistair couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. Morrigan had never mentioned anything about elven ruins before, though he knew she was fascinated by the ancient elves’ achievements, but nevertheless he gestured for her to continue.

“What Corypheus seeks in those forgotten woods is as ancient as it is dangerous,” she said, sounding very pleased with herself.

“Which is?” he asked bluntly, already seeing how Cullen’s expression had grown tight and knowing even Josephine’s patience wore thin with Morrigan’s grandstanding.

Instead of being disappointed, Morrigan turned her most predatory smile on him. “An eluvian.”

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. If Corypheus possessed an eluvian, could he travel through hers to attack them in their own fortress, or worse still, send an army through whilst he travelled bodily into the Fade, as he had tried to do with the Anchor and Alistair had succeeded at. He remembered Morrigan telling him how someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers, how Kieran had suggested she had considered doing so when he was trapped in the Fade at Adamant.

Morrigan went on to explain how she had found legends of an untouched elven temple within the Arbor Wilds but that it had proved too dangerous for her. She didn’t mention how she had found her own eluvian elsewhere, only continuing, “If Corypheus has turned southward, he could succeed where I failed. The eluvian would be his.”

Of course, Alistair wasn't certain why that was such a major issue since he had been physically in the Fade twice now but she continued to insist it would be a terrible thing.

Cullen asked the same question, "What happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?"

"Why, he will gain his heart's desire, and take the power of a god," Morrigan said then, as everyone's faces showed their shock she continued, "Or - and this is more likely - the lunatic will unleash forces that tear the world apart."

It still didn't explain why it had been different for him but he had only wanted to get back home not try to control the magic there, could that have made the difference? Then again, he wasn't a mage and didn't have Corypheus' power either. "We have to stop him," Alistair said.

"Indeed. Should Corypheus succeed, do not doubt you would be first to feel his holy wrath," she told him.

How very reassuring. Of course, he could always count on Morrigan to be blunt though at least the look she turned on him was somewhat sympathetic.

"Pardon me, but..." Josephine interrupted their moment. "Does this mean everything's lost unless we get to the eluvian before him?"

There was an awkward silence as Morrigan presumably tried to work out how to answer in a way which left them some hope.

"Corypheus has a head start no matter how quickly our army moves," Cullen said.

Josephine pointed out they needed their allies too but Leliana didn't think they could wait that long. She wanted to send out scouts immediately whilst Cullen feared they would be killed without support.

"Then what should we do?" Josephine asked and they all looked to him for an answer.

Alistair hated this, bearing the responsibility for the whole Inquisition. Sure, he was the only one who could close the rifts, perhaps the only one who could defeat Corypheus when it came down to it, but he wasn't equipped to lead an entire army, to make life and death decisions for hundreds of people.

He took a deep breath, Morrigan's presence at his side a reminder of why he had to get this right. What would Kallian do? His hands shook but he managed to keep his voice level as he told them, "You need to work together," suggesting Josephine arranged for their allies to send their own scouts directly to join Leliana's agents in the Wilds, then they should have enough forces to slow down Corypheus' army until Cullen's soldiers arrived.

"Such confidence," said Morrigan, tone only just a shade off mocking, "but the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old elven magic lingers in those woods."

Was that intending to be a warning or reassurance? Could that old elven magic be on their side, with the right people, and might it oppose Corypheus and his forces more than the Inquisition? Was it a hint further to their earlier discussion about Solas?

"We'd be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan," Josephine said, with due deference. "Please, lend us your expertise."

Of course she would like that and Morrigan gave a satisfied smile. "'Tis why I came here," she said, "although it is good to see its value recognised."

They exchanged a few more thoughts, Alistair attempted to hide his own nerves with inspiring words and the war council all seemed to appreciate it.

Later that day Alistair walked in on Morrigan showing off her eluvian to Fiona, who looked unimpressed at her claim to be an expert on elven artifacts. She was a little more interested once Morrigan took them to the mist-shrouded place she called ‘the crossroads’ and a little more forgiving of her claims.

Of course, when she had looked around at the dark mirrors; broken, corrupted or otherwise unusable and heard the full story of how they could be activated she immediately wanted to bring Solas in to help investigate.

Morrigan pleaded that this place was special to their family, where she, Alistair and Kieran had found some respite from the demands of the world and Fiona softened.

After she had left, Alistair reluctantly met Morrigan's gaze. "You need to tell her," she said.

"I need to?" he countered, not denying he knew what she meant. "Why not you? You understand it better."

Morrigan shook her head. "She'll be more likely to listen to it coming from you."

Alistair found he couldn't argue with that but nonetheless he put off the discussion until it could no longer wait. If they were going to be dealing with ancient elven magics, Alistair wanted Solas with him and Fiona too, though she wouldn't normally join him for such things, but he needed to be certain she knew what she could be letting herself in for.

Although Kieran understood more than a boy his age should, Alistair didn't want to drag him into this more than he already was. He found his son in the gardens, watching Dorian and Cullen play chess with a very serious look on his face.

“Would you mind keeping an eye on Kieran for a few hours?" he asked them. "His mother and I have some business to attend to.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow at that but Alistair forced himself not to react; it didn’t matter what other people thought they were doing and he wasn’t embarrassed to be with Morrigan anyway, whatever she felt about him.

He found Fiona sorting books in the library and fortunately Solas was nowhere around. “We need to talk about Solas,” he told her.

“Do we?” she asked, looking uncomfortable.

"Please." Whatever she saw in his expression must have been enough as she reluctantly followed him back to his quarters where Morrigan was waiting.

"What's this about Solas then?" she asked, chin tipped up as if in challenge.

“I'm not sure how much Kieran has said to you,” Alistair began tentatively.

"I don't know what you mean..." Fiona said but she had tensed as though she knew what was coming.

"He calls him the wolf-man," Alistair said.

At the same time, Morrigan asked, “What exactly do we know about him?

Fiona frowned, ignoring Alistair's comment to answer Morrigan. "He is an apostate with a particular gift for exploring the Fade in his sleep."

He knew she knew more than that. "Kieran says he's like his other grandmother," Alistair said.

Morrigan flinched and he remember how Kieran had said he hadn't told his mother as he thought it would upset her.

"His other grandmother?" Fiona asked and Alistair tried to recall if they had discussed Flemeth with her at all.

"My mother," Morrigan said tightly. "Known as Flemeth."

It was clear Fiona was remembering everything he had told her about the Witch of the Wilds. Or perhaps everything she'd heard from Maric, since Flemeth had claimed to have met him.

"You think he's what, a shapeshifter?” She was probably right to sound dubious, since that was hardly a terrible accusation.

Alistair shook his head. “Flemeth has a way of thwarting death.”

“So what are you saying? He’s a werewolf?"

Alistair hadn't been thinking that but now he was; not like the ones Zathrian had cursed perhaps but a shapeshifter like Flemeth, or Morrigan herself to some extent. Could that explain Kieran's odd choice of story that time?

"He is certainly long-lived. He knows too much," Morrigan said. "The alternative is that he is an ancient elf, who has survived the centuries by taking over the bodies of others, as Flemeth had intended to do to me."

"You can't believe that," Fiona said, as though it was a ridiculous suggestion.

"Unless he's actually Fen'Harel, I don't know how else to explain it," she said.

"He cannot be," said Alistair. "Can he?"

Fiona was dismissive of the idea but Alistair sensed she was holding something back, perhaps Solas had told her something in confidence? He didn't want to push her into breaking that, was glad of their friendship, but he needed to be able to trust Solas.

Morrigan seemed to sense some hint of this too as she pressed on, “ If he is keeping such a secret then what danger might he be putting us in? Can we take that risk to our family?”

That appeared to strike a nerve and Fiona shuddered. “He has given me no reason to think his offers of assistance are anything less than genuine but, yes, he has said some things which are hard to ignore.”

“In what way?” Alistair asked, relieved she was no longer resisting them on this.

“It's nothing obvious, just, sometimes he speaks of Arlathan as though he was there… Or he talks about elvhen customs from such a distant perspective. He told me once he was glad I didn't wear vallaslin so I wouldn't be reminded of being a slave.”

It was an odd thing to say but Solas always seemed to know more than he let on and then parceled out his knowledge at opportune moments.

"We need to keep an eye on him," Morrigan said. "Who knows what his true intentions are..."

"And you want me to spy on him for you?" Fiona asked, her tone veering back towards challenging.

"I want us all to watch him," Alistair said. "I want the three of you with me when we go after Corypheus and I need to be sure I can trust him at my back." Morrigan tried to interrupt but he shook his head. "No, I'm sure he has his own agenda, but so do you. Both of you."

Fiona shrugged, "Of course. As does everyone here."

There was a lot of truth in that. Which wasn't to say there was anyone in Skyhold who didn't support the Inquisition, but they all had their own reasons for being there. If only they could trust that Solas' were as benign as others.

Still, with that matter in hand, Alistair confirmed to Leliana that he would be taking Fiona and Solas with himself and Morrigan to the temple. They would also need a scout of their own and Cole seemed the obvious choice.

Leliana looked concerned. “Are you certain you want to take Morrigan with you?”

Alistair forced himself to keep a neutral expression. He had had a feeling he knew what she was going to say, had sensed this conversation was coming, but he didn't want to get on the defensive unnecessarily. “Why wouldn't I want to?" he asked, suppressing a smile. "I hear she's an expert on elven temples.” Of course he'd heard it from her but Leliana knew that anyway.

Instead of the tight smile he'd half-expected, she frowned at him. “I was being serious. It concerns me.”

"I don't see why it should," Alistair said, resisting the urge to just walk away. Leliana deserved for him to take her concerns seriously and there was also the possibility she had heard something about Morrigan from her contacts. "I've known her as long as you have, and spent a lot more time with her, I think I know her well enough by now."

"Don't you think it's unhealthy?" she said and Alistair know she meant their relationship, not Morrigan's contributions to the Inquisition. "I know you're accustomed to it but she seems to spend more time denigrating you than offering any support."

Alistair had had years to grow accustomed to Morrigan's sharp tongue and barbed comments. In truth, he rarely paid attention to the actual words, having long become familiar with recognising genuine annoyance from mere banter. "Do you not think I can tell the difference between teasing and genuine scorn?" he asked, keeping his tone as light as he could.

"But what kind of example does it set Kieran?" Leliana said, pointedly.

That was too far.  Whatever there was or wasn't between himself and Morrigan they both loved their son.  "To think for himself.  Or perhaps not to judge people on outward appearances...  Anyway," he argued, "given both of our upbringings, I think we turned out remarkably stable.  I'm pretty certain we're doing better than Arl Eamon, or Flemeth managed."

“You're right,” Leliana reluctantly conceded, "I still think you should watch out, you don't know that she doesn't have her own reasons for helping us."

Of course she did, but that didn't mean her goals don't align with the Inquisition's. Alistair was certain Morrigan was trying to make herself indispensable to ensure she was the one allowed to control this new eluvian but she still wanted Corypheus defeated. There was nothing the darkspawn magister could offer her.  He doubted Leliana would believe it from him though so he left it at that.

Alistair and his group headed out just behind the vanguard of the main Inquisition army, with their allied forces meeting them en route. Corypheus barely had an army to field anymore but they were still enough to slow the Inquisition down.

By the time he reached the Arbor Wilds, skirmishes had already broken out and the Captain in charge told Alistair the Red Templars were fighting harder than ever with their master nearby.

She passed on intelligence from the scouts that Corypheus was travelling toward an elven ruin to the north. "We can clear you a path through his armies," she said.

What went unsaid was that they would sacrifice their own lives to do it. Alistair's stomach turned at the thought; he hated it but he couldn't deny he was the only one who could face down Corypheus. "Don't do anything I wouldn't," he said. It was meant as a joke but they both knew he would make any sacrifice necessary.

She nodded as they parted with a final, "Andraste guide you, Inquisitor."

Morrigan made her way over from where she'd been obviously eavesdropping. "I wonder: is it Andraste your soldiers invoke during battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips."

Thinking of when his name came to her lips, Alistair couldn't help the blush he felt warming his cheeks. "No one mistakes me for the Maker," he managed to reply.

"True," she said. For a moment he thought she was going to say something crude but then she shook her head. "You are far more likely to come to their aid than a Chantry fable..."

Did she think she could bait him with that when she knew what he thought of the Chantry?  He couldn't come up with a quick enough retort before she continued.

"But I digress," she said. "If your scouts report accurately, I believe these ruins to be the Temple of Mythal."

"Really?" How could she sound so sure?

"If Corypheus seeks it, then the eluvian he covets lies within." The sound of distant explosions reached them and she shuddered. "Let us hope we reach this temple /before/ the entire forest is reduced to ash."

They headed through a wooded area and Alistair could feel the power in the land.

"Something more powerful than the Red Templars stirs," Morrigan said and he couldn't help but agree.

They helped out a group of Celene's Chevaliers battling Red Templars along with a few Grey Wardens still under Corypheus' control and continued on, the sound of water getting closer until they reached a great waterfall. Not much further on than that, they found Red Templars trying to hold a ruined bridge, with marksmen scattered across the ruins.

Inquisition's forces, including some of their tamed Templars, were fighting more of Corypheus' troops on the edge of a shallow lake, which they ended up having to wade across to assist and then, only a short distance ahead, they spotted a Red Templar camp. It was already half-empty but during the battle they were attacked from the side by elves who seemed hostile to themselves and Corypheus' forces.

"It seems this Temple of Mythal is not deserted after all," Solas said.

"Perhaps these creatures are the reason few return from the Arbor Wilds," Morrigan suggested.

Alistair winced. Perhaps these elves could be convinced to ally with them, if they opposed Corypheus, but calling them 'creatures' wasn't a good way to achieve that.

In the camp they also found a letter addressed to the Red Templars, telling them not to be bothered that Corypheus had handpicked Grey Wardens to be part of his honour guard.  Apparently the darkspawn magister was still sore he had lost all but a few dozen Wardens to the Inquisition at Adamant. Alistair was glad to have thwarted him.

They reached the second line of Inquisition troops, where they found Leliana, fighting two behemoths by some ruined archways. The buildings were becoming more intact, suggesting they were getting closer to the temple itself. As did the presence of more of the elves, though they still refused to respond to any of his pleas before attacking.

Leliana told them to follow the river, which led to the temple gates where a larger group of Inquisition soldiers were fighting Red Templars. Once Corypheus’ people were defeated, it was obviously they were approaching a major temple as they passed between a pair of giant halla statues, then a similar pair of wolves, before travelling down a narrow walled passageway.

At the other end there was a bright glow, which resolved into a fog, the temple ahead of them with a great tree rising up in the middle. They had also found Corypheus and Samson but, as they ducked down behind the balustrade of the balcony they had come out onto, they didn’t seem to have been spotted.

The darkspawn magister was facing down elves, who looked the same as those they had fought earlier, at the entrance to the Temple. The elves were defiant but Samson only laughed and they were close enough to hear him say, “They still think to fight us, Master.”

Corypheus approached them with a complete lack of concern. “These are but remnants. They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows.”

The well of what? Alistair turned to Morrigan, mouthed the words at her questioningly but she only shrugged in confusion, the furrow between her eyes suggesting it was genuine.

The Temple had its own defenses, the two statues before the final bridge crackling with lightning but Corypheus continued forward. “Be honoured!” he declared. “Witness death at the hands of a new god!”

He stepped between the statues, activating a lightning trap. There was a flash of light and when it faded, his body was burnt to ash, as were the elves who had been closest and the statues were destroyed.

Alistair gaped in shock, surely it couldn't be that simple? They hurried down the steps as the surviving members of Corypheus’ bodyguard crossed the bridge, cautiously moving towards the ashes but, then, there was a sound from behind them.

It was one of the Grey Wardens; black blood spurting out of his mouth and then his body twisting into a replica of Corypheus as he transferred his life essence. Somehow he had found a way to mimic the powers of an Archdemon, only using their defence against the Blight as a weapon for himself.

“Across the bridge,’ Alistair ordered. They couldn’t stand and fight here. “Now!”

There came a piercing cry and Corypheus' dragon swept down towards them, now enhanced with red lyrium where Clarel had clearly severely wounded it. It chased them across the bridge and they only barely managed to get behind the doors ahead of its flaming breath, slamming them closed just before it reached them. The doors flashed with magical energy and Alistair could only hope it was a good omen, not merely a sign they were now trapped within.


	24. Chapter 24

Alistair looked around, finding only a peaceful courtyard, with the faint sounds of birdsong and distant running water.

“At last. Mythal’s sanctum,” said Morrigan. “Let us proceed before Corypheus interferes.”

"But what was this 'Well of Sorrows' he mentioned?" Alistair asked.

Morrigan pursed her lips. "I... am uncertain of what he referred to," she said eventually.

Alistair could imagine what it cost her to admit that, especially in front of Fiona and Solas. "Could they be the same?" he asked tentatively. "Could 'Well of Sorrows' be a way of describing an eluvian?"

He could see Solas wanting to speak, but Fiona restrained him with a hand on his arm as Morrigan shook her head. "No," she snapped. "It seems an eluvian is not the prize Corypheus seeks. Yes, I was wrong. Does that please you?"

When she looked up and met his eyes her gaze was challenging and Alistair tried to look sympathetic. Of course he didn't take pleasure in her mistakes but he also knew better than to try to argue with her about it.

Her posture softened. "Whatever the Well of Sorrows might be," she continued in a less angry tone, "Corypheus seeks it, and thus you must keep it from his grasp."

Alistair nodded. "Let's find this well before Corypheus' people do then."

They moved on, Morrigan stalking ahead and Fiona sped up to walk alongside him. "Do you think they knew?" she asked.

He blinked at the apparent non-sequitur. "Do I think who knew?"

"The Wardens who locked Corypheus up," she said. "Do you think they knew he could do what even Archdemons cannot?"

Alistair had hardly wanted to think about it but he couldn't ignore it forever. "It would explain a lot, wouldn't it? I doubt it will work again though."

"How will you defeat him?" Fiona asked, but it wasn't entirely a question.

He could feel the weight of his mother's gaze and had no answer for her so hurried to catch up with Morrigan. They ventured forward, across an elaborately tiled floor, which lit up under his feet.

"It appears the Temple's magicks are still strong," Morrigan said, not sounding the slightest bit surprised.

Alistair looked at the pillar in the centre of the section of flooring. "This is elven, right? Does it say anything about this 'Well of Shadows'?" He might know a few words of elven but not enough to read it.

Morrigan peered at it over his shoulder, lips moving silently as she tried to translate.

Solas kept a distance away as he read out, "Atish'all Vir Abelasan." He paused. "It means Enter the Path of the Well of Shadows."

"There is something about knowledge," Morrigan told them. "Respectful or pure?" She muttered some words under her breath then shook her head. "'Tis all I can translate."

Alistair looked back to Fiona and Solas but neither of them volunteered to translate the text in full, even though he was certain both of them understood more than Morrigan had. What could it say that was so ominous they wouldn't tell him? Or was it just too mundane? Still, Morrigan wouldn't ask them and he didn't feel he could.

Morrigan looked back and forwards between him and the others, then took a deep breath before saying, "Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path may aid entry."

"It doesn't seem much of a challenge," said Alistair, thinking of the puzzles he had encountered at Kallian's side.

She shrugged. "'Tis a ritual, not a barred door. There is more here than earthly treasure."

For possibly the first time, Solas' expression turned approving and so Alistair looked back down, counting the tiles. Was he supposed to just cross the tiled area, since there was an exit on the other side, or make a full circuit? He could chart a route which would touch each square and bring him back where he started.

Each tile lit up as he trod on it and, when he reached the beginning again and the last tile was lit, there was a rush of power.

"Well done," said Morrigan, in a tone only one stage off patronising. "Let us see what awaits."

What awaited them was the torn apart bodies of Red Templars and elves. "I see they have already encountered the temple's guardians," Morrigan said as they moved cautiously past.

They didn't encounter any more of the elven guardians and Morrigan soon started speculating again. "The elves believed Mythal was a goddess of Justice. They came here to request judgment. After they proved their worth."

Alistair wondered where her information came from. She had said she hadn't known about the Well of Shadows, and he believed her, but how could she know so much about this place and yet not have heard of it? Was this another story out of Flemeth's old grimoire?

"Silence has reigned here for time beyond memory," Solas said sharply and Morrigan took the hint for once, at least until they found a statue of Fen'Harel.

"Why would _this_ be here?" she asked, narrowing her eyes and looking sideways at Solas.

Alistair tried to think what the Dalish had taught them about the elven gods. In the tales, the Dread Wolf tricked the other gods into sealing themselves away in the Beyond for all time. "Maybe they just liked wolves?" he suggested, hopefully.

Morrigan frowned at him. "Setting Fen'Harel in Mythal's greatest sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in the Chantry."

"For all your 'knowledge,' Lady Morrigan, you cannot resist giving legend the weight of history," Solas said. "The wise do not mistake one for the other."

Well, there was another point towards their speculation having at least some truth in it but whether Solas could truly be Fen'Harel himself, rather than simply a priest or close companion - like Shartan to Andraste - was still too impossible to believe.

There was no time to think about it though as they passed through the next set of doors to find themselves facing Samson. They couldn’t reach him where he was standing on a balcony on the far side of the courtyard flanked by two horrors, and he looked back at them even as there was a loud explosion behind him.

“Hold them off,” he said and several Red Templars emerged from behind pillars to attack them as he jumped downwards, presumably into the hole made by his explosion.

The fight was vicious but over fairly quickly, knowing as soon as they had defeated the Red Templars they needed to follow Samson. Alistair would have jumped straight down the hole if it wasn’t for Morrigan’s hand on his forearm.

“Hold a moment,” she said. “While they rush ahead,” she pointed to the door on the other side of the balcony, “this leads to our true destination. We should walk the Petitioner’s Path, as before.”

She had a point but at the same time Alistair couldn’t help but think of the Inquisition soldiers out there fighting, and dying, at the hands of Corypheus’ forces whilst they wasted their time on elven rituals. In any other circumstances he would have loved to explore the Hall of Shrines here, to learn more about the elven gods, but they didn't have the time.

“In this case,” Solas said, breaking into his moment of introspection, “I must agree with the witch. This is ancient ground, deserving of our respect.”

“You see the urgency,” Morrigan added, without even gloating. “We _cannot_ find the Well of Shadows unprepared.”

For Morrigan and Solas to be in agreement was so unusual, the choice seemed obvious but Fiona had some objections.

“We don’t know what’s behind those doors,” she protested. “They might have a reason for going another way.”

Alistair shook his head. “I don’t think so. There’s no way that explosion was the easier option.”

“ _That_ must lead to their goal,” Morrigan insisted.

“Their goal?” Fiona asked. “Or yours?”

Was that what this was all about? Alistair knew Morrigan wasn't lying about this but did she have another goal here?

She pulled him aside, walking towards the doors. "I read more in the first chamber than I revealed," she admitted.

Alistair couldn't help glancing back at Solas, who must have read the same thing, but the elf was looking away from them.

"Go on," he said.

"It said a great boon is given to those who use the Well of Shadows... but at a terrible price."

He felt his stomach clench with nerves. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I hoped to find more information," she said. "If I intended to trick you, I would have feigned ignorance entirely."

As Solas had. Still, that couldn't be his concern here. "Why is this Well so important?" he asked.

"There is... a danger to the natural order," she said. "Legends walked Thedas once, things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser. Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the well. I would have it restored."

She spoke so passionately, Alistair was taken aback. He struggled to respond, "I wasn't expecting your answer to be so... romantic."

Morrigan's expression twisted. "I can be romantic," she said.

Alistair raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

She actually flushed. "Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand: elves, dragons, magic... The list is endless. We must stem the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane. If the opportunity arises to save this Well, I am willing to pay the cost."

"What about Kieran?" he asked. He wanted to add 'what about me' but couldn't bring himself to say it.

Morrigan took a deep breath then shook her head. "I do not believe the price will be my life. Besides, he still has you."

"And what if it takes my sacrifice to defeat Corypheus?"

The shock which flickered across her face suggested she actually hadn't considered that scenario. She worried at her lip before answering, "'Tis not the time to discuss this now. We have to focus on the Well. The rituals may point the way."

There were two more ritual puzzles, all along the same lines as the first with a fixed route to discover; one complicated by gates which had to be opened and closed in sequence, the other by the collapse of the stairs which should have led to the second half, both probably intended to teach patience or perseverance or some such quality Samson clearly lacked.

They returned to find the doors onward glowing blue and they almost seemed to dissolve as their group passed through, finding themselves in a large chamber. Morrigan was most intrigued but they didn’t have the time to stop and examine their surroundings.

Alistair had the sudden feeling of being watched but, before he could look around, a cloaked figure appeared in front of them. Under his deep hood Alistair could make out vallaslin symbolising Mythal, which seemed to confirm it was indeed her Temple of which the elves were the guardians.

The elf spoke, acknowledging they were unlike the ‘other invaders,’ and Alistair assured him Corypheus and his followers were their enemies too.

He introduced himself as Abelas, one of the elven sentinels set to guard this place, and told them he knew what they sought. “Like all who have come before you, you wish to drink from the Vir Abelasan.”

Before Alistair could ask him to explain, Morrigan leant over, giving him a significant look, “The Place of the Way of Sorrows. He speaks of the well.”

Alistair could hardly contain his curiosity, “So you're elves from ancient time? Before Tevinter destroyed Arlathan?”

Abelas frowned at him as he explained they had warded themselves, not been destroyed. “By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over. We awaken only when called, and each time find the world more foreign than before. It is meaningless, we endure.”

Although he wished he could ask more questions about the ancient elves, about Arlathan, Alistair knew they needed to focus on Corypheus and what he was searching for. “What exactly is the Vir Abelasan?” he asked instead.

“It is a path,” Abelas told them. “One walked only by those who toiled in Mythal’s favour.” A frisson of excitement passed through them all even as the elf continued, “More than that, you may not know.”

“Yet Corypheus’ troops will take its powers by force,” Alistair protested. “Unless you've defeated them already.”

The guardian seemed to thaw towards them somewhat at that. “Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart.”

Morrigan looked at though she wanted to say something but Alistair didn't want to risk this tentative truce. “I accept,” he said in a rush.

Abelas nodded. “Very well. You will be guided to those you seek.” He stepped back and continued, “As far as the Vir Abelasan, it shall not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself.”

As he turned to leave, Morrigan changed into her crow form and took off after him, with Alistair only able to shout helplessly after her.

He might have thought her chase would affect the attitude of the Sentinel elves towards them but one still stepped forward without comment and led them forwards. They heard the sounds of fighting and quickly came across Red Templars fighting others of the Temple guardians. Once the battle was done, their guide took them through a hidden door and down winding passages.

They entered a room with a beautiful statue of Mythal, which looked untouched, and further down corridors with the remnants of intricate mosaics into another almost untouched room. Here the murals clearly showed the stories of Mythal, Ghilan'nain, Elgar'nan, Sylaise, the twins, and more. Alistair wished for more time to examine them, certain they would contain knowledge long lost and regretting that Morrigan’s impulsiveness had led to her missing this. He could only hope they would have a chance to return this route on their way out.

They continued to alternate between rooms where they encountered groups of Red Templars, which were in gradually better condition as they moved deeper into the Temple, and the connecting, presumably secret, passageways until they finally reached the Well of Sorrows.

They stood upon a balcony looking across and it was truly a mystical place: the deep scent of growing things, plants coming up through the floor, the air thick and humid, heavy with power, unseen birds calling raucously from the dense undergrowth. But upsetting the image of this awe-inspiring nature, were the Red Templars battling, and clearly overpowering the elven defenders. As they made their way down the stone steps, there was no sign of Abelas nor Morrigan.

They confronted Samson with news of Maddox’s death and he seemed genuinely saddened but not for long. He boasted how Corypheus had chosen him, “Once as his general, now as his vessel for the Well of Sorrows,” and how he would claim its wisdom, “The kind that can scour a world. I will give it to Corypheus so he can walk into the Fade without your precious anchor.”

Corypheus entering the Fade was the last thing they needed but could they convince Samson of that? “What’s your part in this?” Alistair asked. “What do you mean by ‘a vessel’?”

“What empties a well?” Samson responded. “I’ll carry its power to Corypheus. Being force fed Chantry lyrium was good for something. This armour makes me a living fortress, mind and body.”

Even as Alistair reached a hand towards the pouch holding Dagna's rune, that boast made him shudder. He himself had had a narrow escape from that fate and he couldn’t help thinking of Cullen, desperately trying to break his addiction, to atone. If their commander was to be believed, Samson had been a reluctant Templar, still seeing mages as people; it was a tragedy that they had found themselves on opposite sides now, that Corypheus had managed to fool him into seeing his corruption as a benefit.

Samson was still talking, “Corypheus will be unstoppable. You’re no match for him. Even if you try to drink from the well, you’ll never master its wisdom as he could.”

“I’ll see Corypheus dead before I let him wield that power,” Alistair told him.

The former Templar smiled cruelly, “And how are you going to stop him?” His armour glowed and there was a burst of power as he moved into a fighting stance, “This is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. So, Inquisitor, how will this go?”

“I’m sorry,” Alistair said, holding out the rune, the culmination of Dagna’s research. The dwarf hadn’t believed he would need to actually touch it to Samson’s armour to destroy it but the closer he was, the better chance of it working. Alistair hoped he was close enough, and then knew he was as he watched Samson’s expression changing, first to surprise, then anger as he realised what was happening.

“What did you do?” he asked. “My armour - it’s gone. The lyrium - I need it!” Gesturing at his Templars, Samson ordered, “Kill them all!”

Even without the empowered armour, it was a hard battle. The Red Templars who had made it this far were clearly Corypheus’ elite and Samson was still a dangerous opponent.

Finally he collapsed, though he was somehow still breathing. Alistair hardly wanted to touch his blade, evidently corrupt with elven, Tevinter and Blight elements all intertwined but they couldn't leave it for anyone else.

Abelas returned at that point, with a crow, presumably Morrigan, in pursuit.  It reached the edge of the Well before him, turning back into her human form and blocking his path, as Alistair and the others caught up with them.

“So, the sanctum is despoiled at last,” the elf declared.

“You would have destroyed the well yourself given the chance,” Morrigan countered.

“To keep it from your grasping fingers,” he spat back.  “Better it be lost than bestowed upon the unworthy.”

Alistair intervened before it could get more heated.  “Samson thought the well’s knowledge was valuable.  It could help stop Corypheus.”

“I care not for your petty conflicts,” Abelas stated, but he sounded like he might be wavering.

Morrigan had clearly noticed too, as her next words were more conciliatory.  “The moment we leave he will send more forces to secure this place.”  She turned to Alistair,  “The well clearly offers power.  If it can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it.”

“Do you even know what you ask?” said Abelas.  “As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on through this.  All that we were, all that we knew, it would be lost forever.”

Alistair could hear the sorrow in his tone and sympathized, but wasn't it better to go to them than to be lost completely, or turned to serve Corypheus?  And were they really that unworthy of Mythal’s blessing?  “Would you truly rather the knowledge was destroyed, never passed on?  We would honour this gift.”

Our duty is all that remains,” Abelas told them, but he glanced thoughtfully back at the pool, its opaque waters constantly rippling, never still.

“There are other places, friend, other duties,” Solas interrupted.

Abelas looked conflicted. “You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny.  Is this your desire? To partake of the Vir Abelasan as best you can, to fight your enemy?”

“It is,” Alistair said, once again jumping in before the others could argue any further.  He knew it was the right thing to do, even though he didn't understand all the consequences.

Abelas gave him a searching look.  “The Vir Abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend.  Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal.”

Alistair shuddered with a sense of foreboding even as Morrigan replied scornfully, “Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did.”

“Bound, as we are bound,” Abelas stated firmly.  “The choice is yours.”

“Elvhen legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen’Harel and banished to the beyond,” Morrigan said, and Alistair thought he saw Solas twitch out the corner of his eye but when he looked directly the elf appeared as implacable as ever.

“The legend is wrong,” Abelas said.  “The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder.”

“Murder?” Morrigan looked taken aback. “I said nothing of…”

“She was slain,” Abelas continued as though she had not spoken. “If a god truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple. Yet the Vir Abelasan remains, as do we. That is something.”

“What will you do now?” Alistair asked.

Solas stepped forward, a hand outstretched.  “There is a place for you, lethallin, if you seek it.”

Abelas nodded but did not take the offered hand. “Perhaps there are places the shemlen have not touched.  Or it may be that only uthenra awaits us.  So be it.”

Their group parted to let him leave and watched as he made his way out of the chamber then turned back to the well.


	25. Chapter 25

An awkward silence followed, until Morrigan said sharply, “You'll note the intact eluvian. I was correct on that count at least.”

Alistair had not noticed the eluvian until she pointed it out, but there it stood on the other side of the well. “It's it still a threat?” he asked. “Can Corypheus use it to travel the Fade?”

Morrigan shook her head. “The well is its key; take its power and Mythal's last eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass.” She hesitated, before adding, “Though I did not expect the well to feel so… hungry.”

“So, what do we do now?” Alistair asked.

“I am willing to pay the price the well demands,” she said. “I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service.”

“Or more likely to your own ends,” said Solas.

“What do you know of my ends?” she snarled. Solas visibly bit back his response, looking at Alistair, as Morrigan continued, “Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me drink.”

“You alone?” Fiona said archly. “You are not the only mage here.”

“I have studied the oldest lore,” Morrigan insisted. “I have delved into mysteries of which you in the Circles could only dream.”

“I was not always in the Circles,” Fiona retorted.

“Must it be a mage?” Alistair asked. He wasn't sure if he was volunteering but he needed to break their deadlock.

They all turned to look at him. Cole’s eyes glazed over, as he spoke, “The voice calls to power, it ebbs and flows.”

He would take that as a ‘yes’ then. “What about you, Solas?”

“No,” he said shortly. “Do not ask me again.”

Well, that was clear enough. Alistair turned back to Morrigan, “You are not concerned about the price? Bound forever to the will of Mythal?”

She shrugged. “Bound to the will of a dead god? It seems an empty warning. Perhaps a compulsion yet remains. Who can say otherwise? I do not fear it even so.”

Perhaps she should. Somehow, Alistair didn't imagined Corypheus would have been overly concerned about it, though he may simply have considered Samson a suitably expendable follower, but that didn't mean _he_ was equally happy for someone else to take the risk, especially not Morrigan.

“It is not just the knowledge from the ancient elven priests,” Solas said reluctantly, as though he didn't want to be involved in the discussion. “It's their will.”

"If we don't take the power, Corypheus will. Is that really what you want?" Alistair asked him.

Solas shook his head. "Of course not, but I fear you do not understand what you're getting yourself into."

"Maybe not, but one of us has to drink it," Morrigan said.

Solas looked tired. “You are right about that at least: we should take the power which lies in that well.”

Alistair knew Morrigan wanted the knowledge from the well just as much as they needed its power so he could hardly forbid her to drink as much as he desperately wanted to. He tried to think of some way of dissuading her from it, some other solution. Before he could say anything Fiona stepped forward. "I will do it," she said.

"You can't," Solas objected, his expression pinched as though there was more he wanted to say but couldn't.

"Unless you can give me a good reason not to," Fiona dared him.

“So many voices,” said Cole. “They would be in your head, talking over you. You don't want them.”

“You would take what little knowledge you can understand and let the rest go to waste?” Morrigan said.

“And who's to say it will go to waste?” Fiona challenged.

Alistair held back, unwilling to take sides between the two women, even if he could have decided between them.  Although he didn't really want Fiona to take the risk anymore than he wanted Morrigan in that situation, who was he to say if she wouldn’t maybe be a better choice.  Surely it would be better for him to let them decide without his influence. 

After a long pause, Morrigan stepped back, shaking her head. “Perhaps it is better this way. Do as you will with the Well of Sorrows. But be careful.”

Reluctantly they all agreed Fiona should be the one to drink. She stepped gingerly into the pool, wading into the centre of the waist-deep water. Power rose from it like steam, wafting around her, as she cupped her hands and drank. For a moment nothing happened and then sparks of light like fireflies spun around her followed by a shockwave of water and magic thrust out from the Well, knocking them down.

When Alistair got to his feet, Fiona lay motionless on the bottom of the now-drained pool. “Mother!’ he exclaimed, hurrying to her side, even as she began to stir.

She blinked awake, sitting up, looking at her hands as though they were unfamiliar to her. When the first words that came out of her mouth were elven, Alistair worried the spirits of the Well had possessed her but he wasn’t left to worry for long.

She got shakily to her feet, waving away both Alistair and Solas’ offers of assistance, but as she did, power snaked around her feet once more, rising from what had been the Well. She looked towards the entrance and gasped.

As Alistair followed her gaze, he saw why. Corypheus had arrived. It was clear when the Magister noticed them as he cried out in anger, presumably realising he had been thwarted, and levitated towards them.

“The eluvian,” Morrigan cried and they turned towards it.

With a frown, Fiona reached her hand out and the glass crackled with power, before turning to the same shimmering portal so familiar from his and Morrigan’s adventures.

“Through the mirror,” he said. They ran towards it, Alistair waiting until all his companions were through. He looked back, and saw a figure rise from the drained well, between him and Corypheus, an aura around them like a tornado made of water.

He couldn't wait to see any more but it must have brought them enough time as, when they finally stumbled out of Morrigan's eluvian in Skyhold, there was no sign of pursuit.

Morrigan turned back and shut her eluvian down. “It is done.”

***

They didn't have a chance to find anyone to let them know of their unexpectedly quick return before Kieran ran into the room, as though he had known they were there. Alistair and Morrigan both reached out to him but he stopped short of them, looking directly at Fiona with the uncanny intensity he was prone to. "Why are you like my other grandmother now?" he asked, and Alistair's expression told her that was a question he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.

Fiona herself frowned. Did Kieran mean Flemeth? Perhaps the Well's transferred memories somewhat resembled the way Flemeth transferred her consciousness from body to body? Still, she wasn't certain she was ready to discuss her experiences at all yet, and not with her impressionable grandson, so she dissembled.

A short while later, after a hasty debriefing with Lady Josephine, and ravens being sent to recall the Inquisition's forces back to Skyhold, Alistair, Morrigan and Fiona reconvened in Alistair's rooms, leaving Kieran with the ambassador for the time being.

Fiona started to describe the sense she had of the spirits from the Well; not controlling, but ever-present, a constant whisper in the back of her mind. She wondered if Morrigan would really have fared any better since most of what she was getting seemed to be archaic elven, which even she didn't completely understand. Morrigan suggested putting specific questions to the spirits, rather than simply waiting to see what they would reveal. They were carefully avoiding discussing what Kieran's words could mean when a knock came.

"Milord Inquisitor, Lady Morrigan," the messenger began, appearing a little out of breath. "I'm sorry to bother you. Lady Josephine says she's sure its nothing to worry about but Kieran has wandered off and she can't find him".

Skyhold wasn't a small place so there seemed little need for alarm but none of them liked coincidences. It seemed Josephine had already orchestrated a search of the common areas, with no success, but was reluctant to enter Morrigan's private rooms without permission. They checked there first hoping Kieran had simply headed back alone but, when they found the eluvian powered up with no-one in sight, it became apparent he had gone through.

Alistair stepped forward but Morrigan put a hand out to stop him. "I believe only myself and Fiona should follow," she said. "We have no idea what we will find and, as the Inquisitor, you know we cannot let you take the risk."

"He's my son too!" Alistair said, unwilling to be left behind.

“If you are needed, we will return for you,” Fiona assured him.

It took a little more convincing but Alistair quickly accepted both the logic and the urgency and stepped back to allow Fiona and Morrigan to pass through.

The eluvian didn’t lead to the same between place as before and, when Fiona turned to ask Morrigan, it was clear she was terrified. Fiona found herself with more sympathy for the younger woman, as she too feared for her grandson’s safety.

"Why would Kieran do this?" Morrigan asked. "How could he do this? We stand in the Fade. To direct the eluvian here would require immense powers."

They soon found him with a older woman, who was kneeling whilst he allowed blue energy to flow from him into her.

Morrigan gasped. "That's... no, it can't be."

"Mother!" Kieran called out happily.

"Mother." Morrigan addressed the other woman through gritted teeth.

Fiona had plenty she wanted to say to Flemeth but this wasn't the time to antagonise her, with Kieran's safety on the line. Instead she reminded herself that this was the woman who had saved Alistair's life after Ostagar and forced herself to smile. "You are Flemeth then. I have heard much about you. Perhaps, if you would let Kieran go, we could talk."

Flemeth raised a eyebrow and Fiona felt as though she were looking into her very soul. Then she shrugged, "As if I were holding the boy hostage. She's always been ungrateful, you see."

"Ungrateful?" spat Morrigan. "I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone! You will not have me, and you will not have my son!" She called power to her outstretched hands and Fiona winced. There was no way this was going to go well if it came down to a magical battle.

“That is quite enough. You’ll endanger the boy.” Flemeth looked almost bored as she said, “Be a good dear and stop her.”

Her eyes glowed and she reached out a hand and suddenly Fiona found herself grabbing hold of Morrigan's arm, redirecting her spell off into the Fade.

“What?” Morrigan shook her off with an oath and it felt as though she was waking from a dream.

Her expression must have showed her confusion as Morrigan turned back to Flemeth with an accusing glare. “What have you done?” she demanded.

"I have done nothing,” Flemeth replied. “She drank from the Well of her own volition."

Suddenly everything fell into place. "You didn't tell me your mother was Mythal," Fiona said accusingly.

Morrigan's eyes widened and when she managed to stutter out, "What? She's... I didn't know," Fiona found herself believing her.

Flemeth nudged Kieran and he ran back over to them. Morrigan clung to him as Kieran apologised. "I heard her calling to me. She said now was the time."

Fiona stepped between them. "If you are truly Mythal, then I am sure you will know who I am. Kieran is my grandson too."

The other woman's eyes lit up. "I knew his father was Maric's son but I had long wondered about his elven mother." She looked Fiona up and down. "Interesting.”

"I do not understand," Morrigan said, sounding pained.

Flemeth gave them a considering look. “Once I was but a woman, crying out in the lonely darkness for justice. Then she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being, and she granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried Mythal, through the ages since, seeking that justice denied to her.”

It sounded more like a spirit from the Fade then an ancient goddess to Fiona, reminding her of Anders and his Justice, but then there was the way Flemeth had controlled her to stop Morrigan, and the voices of the Well confirmed her story. “Assuming I believe you, what does it mean?”

“I nudge history, when it's required,” she said. “Sometimes, a shove is needed.” She laughed and Fiona shuddered, as it sounded anything but joyful.

“What do you want?” she asked. “What does Mythal want?”

“A reckoning that will shake the very heavens.”

That sounded awfully similar to Corypheus’ reasoning but perhaps that was why he had been so determined to claim the power of the Well for himself. If she could believe them, the voices told her she could trust Flemeth.

“And you follow her whim?” sneered Morrigan. “Do you even know what she truly is.”

Flemeth smiled, but there was something mocking about it. “You seek to preserve the powers that were, but to what end? It is because I taught you, girl, because things happened that were never meant to happen. She was betrayed as I was betrayed - as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged! Alas, so long as the music plays, we dance.”

As though any of that was any comfort, but somehow Fiona didn't think that was something Flemeth concerned herself with overly. Morrigan still looked unsatisfied, her hand tight on Kieran’s shoulder, and Fiona could still see this going awry. She took a deep breath and tried to redirect the conversation to their more immediate concerns. “I presume you know what we're up against?”

“Better than you could possibly imagine,” she told them.

“So will you help us?” Fiona asked.

Flemeth gave another of her mocking smiles. “Once I have what I came for.”

Fiona could tell from Morrigan's expression that she had just come to a realisation of what that was and it clearly involved Kieran by the way she put herself between her son and her mother.

“No. I will not allow it,” she insisted.

Flemeth gave her a look which was almost pitying, “He carries a piece of what once was. Snatched from the jaws of darkness. You know this.”

It was with a sinking sensation that Fiona came to the same realisation. Flemeth wanted the soul of Urthemiel. The question was whether it would be possible to remove it without harming Kieran.

“He is not your pawn, Mother.” Morrigan set her jaw in determination. “I will not let you use him!”

“Have you not used him? Was that not your purpose, the reason you agreed to his creation?”

Where Fiona would have expected Flemeth’s words to be cruel, intended to hurt, there was something almost tender in her tone. As much as she remembered Alistair’s stories from the Blight, the echoes of the Well tugged at her consciousness, telling her not to be so quick to judge.

Morrigan's reply was equally unexpected in its gentleness. “That was then. Now he… he is my son.”

Flemeth looked taken aback and Fiona shared the feeling. It wasn't that she doubted Morrigan's love for Kieran, nor even that she loved Alistair whatever she might say, but she so rarely demonstrated it that it was easy to forget.

“I've told you how Flemeth extends her life by possessing the bodies of her daughters,” Morrigan said, meeting Fiona’s eyes directly. “That was the fate she intended for me. I thwarted her, and now she intends to have Kieran instead!”

Fiona spun to look at Flemeth in horror, surely that wasn't her aim. There must be more she wasn’t saying.

Flemeth looked vaguely regretful as she said, “Our destinies are not so easily avoided.”

“Surely there is another way,” Fiona said, trying to find a way to stall.

“I have to do this,” Kieran told them, sounding old beyond his years. There had always been the shadow of something other behind his eyes, but before it had been masked with childish innocence. Now that had been stripped away and his eyes were wide and serious.

“You do not belong to her, Kieran,” Morrigan pleaded, her tone tinged with anguish. “Neither of us do.”

Fiona had never related to Morrigan before but something in the visceral pain called to her. She would never forget the years she had spent in slavery, hated the thought of supporting such a thing; even the indentured servitude Alexius had so nearly blackmailed the free mages into had left her feeling sick. Still, she couldn’t believe Flemeth’s intentions were so base. “Why did you wait until now to come for him?” she asked.

“I did not know where he was,” Flemeth said simply. “Morrigan cleverly hid him from me… until now.”

“‘Twas the Well…” breathed Morrigan in horror.

Fiona felt cold all over. “I am so sorry,” she said.

Morrigan shook her head. “Given the outcome, sooner you than me. And better us than Corypheus or one of his servants.” She dropped to her knees, and Kieran looked pleadingly at Flemeth.

Flemeth shrugged. “As you wish. Hear my proposal, dear girl. Let me take the lad, and you are free of me forever. I will never interfere with or harm you again. Or keep the lad with you… and you will never be safe from me. I will have my due.”

“He returns with me,” Morrigan declared, without hesitation.

“Decided so quickly?” Flemeth looked genuinely surprised.

Had she truly believed Morrigan would hand over her son on the hope of her keeping her promise - was she not a mother herself? Had she forgotten what that meant?

“Do whatever you wish,” Morrigan said. “Take over my body now, if you must, but Kieran will be free of your clutches. I am many things, but I will not be the mother you were to me.”

Her words seemed to strike Flemeth like a blow and Fiona felt the echo of it. She had not been much of a mother to Alistair but they had rebuilt their relationship as adults. However this encounter with Flemeth went, it was not going to result in a reunion with Morrigan unless something changed. Fiona remembered how nervous Alistair had been when they first met, but he had possessed a fire, so like his father, reminding her how the Circle had tried to burn hers out. She channeled that inner courage now and stepped forward, “Wait!”

Kieran hesitated, just out of arm’s reach of Flemeth, and looked back at her.

“As a mother, we only want what’s best for our children,” she began. At her side she could almost feel Morrigan’s disbelief but she had to continue. “When they are children we can’t explain why we make the choices we do, they are unable to understand, and it is easy to forget that they have become adults and share our thoughts with them.”

Fiona might have hoped Flemeth would be visibly moved by her words and there was a moment where she felt as though she was getting through, then Flemeth's expression hardened and she turned a impatient gaze on Kieran.

“She said there would be no more dreams,” Kieran said to them, even as he looked at Flemeth with something akin to hope.

“No more dreams,” Flemeth assured him. She looked back at Morrigan, “A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, daughter. You were never in danger from me.”

She took Kieran’s hands and a ball of power rose up from their entwined grasp, and flowed into Flemeth’s chest before dissipating. She said a few words to him, too quiet for Fiona to make out, then looked up and met Fiona’s eyes directly. “Listen to the voices,” she told her, “They will teach you.”

Her cry of “Wait!” was echoed by Morrigan’s. There were so many things she wanted to ask the other woman, that she needed to know, about Alistair and Maric, and particularly what she had to say about Yavana.

Flemeth ignored them before, disappearing into the mists of the Fade.

They returned to Skyhold with a great deal to think about and tried to explain to Alistair what had happened. He wanted to go after Flemeth but, since the only ill-effect Kieran seemed to be suffering was a sense of loneliness they were able to convince him otherwise.

Morrigan was far more effected by the experience, apparently reassessing everything she thought she had known about her mother. “She wanted the Old God soul all along,” she said, shaking her head. “Is it worth reminding myself that perhaps I do not know everything after all? My mother has the soul of an elven goddess - or whatever ‘Mythal’ truly was - and her plans are unknown to me.”

Having never lived amongst the Dalish, Fiona found it difficult to come to terms with being a servant of one of the elvhen pantheon, but it did explain Morrigan's fascination for elvhen lore.

“I can’t believe we didn’t realise what she was,” Alistair said.

“I knew she kept the truth from me,” Morrigan replied. “We even suspected she was not truly human… but this? I always thought the so-called ‘elven gods’ were little more than glorified rulers. But now I have doubt. And doubt is… an uncomfortable thing. I am just thankful I did not drink from the Well. To be tied to my mother for eternity...”

Morrigan shuddered but it seemed to be more in good humour than genuine horror. Although they didn’t know Flemeth’s intentions, Fiona did not feel that she had any ill-will towards them. “What now?”

Morrigan sighed. “Kieran had a destiny, and now it is in Flemeth’s hands. I suppose we shall see what she does with it.”

“For what it’s worth,” Fiona said, “I think you did the right thing.”

“Did I?” Morrigan asked. “She was testing me, and I cannot tell whether I passed. Now, we must prepare to face Corypheus himself. What did she say to you - the voices of the well would teach you?”

Fiona nodded slowly. “They tell me I will be able to match his dragon.” She wasn’t sure yet exactly how but it was becoming clearer.

“Well,” said Morrigan, turning to Alistair. “All that remains then is for you to find him.”

Alistair shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”

As instructed, Fiona spent some time in meditation every day, listening to the voices and quickly realised what she needed to do. It took several days to track Solas down and he was walking the battlements when Fiona finally found him. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she accused him and Solas couldn’t deny it.

“I didn’t think you’d want to speak with me,” he said, glancing from side to side as though looking for an escape route.

“Whyever not?” she asked, refusing to give an inch.

“I feared what you might have learned from the spirits of the Well," he said, still refusing to meet her gaze. "And that you might feel I’ve been lying to you.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow. "You _have_ been lying to me,” she told him bluntly. "I didn't need the Well to tell me that. But I've known who you were for months." He didn't need to know how much she'd been trying to deny the truth though.

Solas blinked in surprise. “What? But how?”

“I suspected it from the first time my grandson told me he’d been talking to the wolf-man in the Fade. And every conversation we’ve had since has confirmed it a little more.”

“I haven’t met your grandson in the Fade,” Solas said, looking even more confused.

Fiona forced a smile; though she hadn't yet said his true name, Solas hadn't denied that was what he had been lying about. “I’m not surprised you wouldn’t recognise him there,” she said. “I imagine he looked very different in spirit.”

Solas gave her a considering look. "In that case, what exactly is your grandson?"

Fiona smiled serenely. "He had the soul of Urthemiel."

Solas's shock was almost gratifying. Did he think he was the only one keeping secrets?

"There is nothing ordinary about our family," she told him. "It's why you fit in so well."

"How?" he asked. "The witch?"

"You didn't think Flemeth... Mythal would have taught her daughter a few things?" More than she had realised before and now she had more sympathy for the woman who had so clearly stolen her son's heart but didn't seem to want to acknowledge it.

Solas blinked again in surprise. "I hadn't realised she was Mythal's daughter," he said.

Fiona shrugged. She didn't want to be distracted from what she had come to say; as much as she had learned from the spirits of the Well, she hoped Solas couldn't tell how much she was bluffing. She needed him to be honest, not just with her but with Alistair too. "That's as may be but it doesn't change your situation."

"What are you going to do about it?" he asked, strain evident in his voice.

"I haven't told the Inquisitor about you yet," she said. Of course, it had been Alistair who had approached her and made her open her eyes to the truth, but there was no need to Solas to know that, and Alistair didn't know about the rest of it.

Solas visibly relaxed. "You haven't? And why not?"

"Because you need to tell him yourself, Fen'Harel." Fiona watched him flinch at the name. "The whole story," she continued, "about the Veil and the Anchor too."

Now he had tensed again. This was the key part, where he made the choice to help them or lashed out and ran. Fiona wasn't certain she could hold out against the power of a god but the voices of the Well assured her she would be protected and she stood firm. Finally Solas slumped in resignation. "Very well."


End file.
